


The Billionaire's Bidding

by Raina_at



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Childhood Friends, Harlequin!Au, M/M, billionaire!jensen, fake boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15062027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raina_at/pseuds/Raina_at
Summary: When idle, slacking billionaire’s son Jensen Ackles lends a helping hand to his old childhood friend, he gets a lot more than he’s bargained for.





	The Billionaire's Bidding

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Harlequin Romance Challenge 2007. Summaries of actual Harlequin romance novels were re-written as J2 fics. That was a fun challenge.  
> I messed a bit with the boys’ ages, Jensen’s two years older than Jared, not 4.  
> Thank you Candygramme for the beta in 2007.

_Prologue_  
   
The doorman greets Jensen with a respectful nod and buzzes him through the security gate so quickly Jensen doesn't even have to break his stride. He's in a good mood today. His iPod is blasting Big &Rich, the sun is shining, and tonight he's going to go to Trixi Halpern's annual season-opener pool party and get drunk and laid.  
   
He gets into the elevator and barely notices the people making room for him. Everybody here knows who he is. Everybody thinks he's going to take over this company one of these days. Jensen never tells them that this is about as likely as an ice storm in a Dallas heat wave.  
   
The elevator slowly empties until it's only Eliza, his Dad's assistant, and him. She smiles at him shyly, and Jensen smiles back. He takes the earplugs out. "Hey, didn't see you there. How're you doing?"  
   
She lifts the stacks of papers in her hands.  "You know, work, work, then some more work."  
   
Jensen grins. "So the usual, then."  
   
Eliza shrugs, still smiling. "What're you gonna do, you know? Gotta pay the rent; gotta feed the cat."  
   
The elevator stops at the top floor and he follows Eliza to her desk, chatting about this and that. Jensen's always liked Eliza; she's funny and pretty to look at, and she obviously likes him.  
   
When they arrive before his Dad's office, Eliza sits down at her desk and points at the door. "You can go right in."  
   
Jensen grins at her and turns on the charm. "Say, Eliza, you don't happen to know what exactly he wants, do ya?"  
   
Eliza gives a tiny shrug and smiles back, picking up her glasses from the desk. "I only made the appointment, Jensen. I'm sorry."  
   
Jensen nods and turns to the door, feeling his good mood fading. "Well, here goes," he says with a wink to Eliza and enters the office without knocking.  
   
His father is, as ever, perfectly dressed in his dark Armani pinstripe. The A/C is blasting full force, making Jensen shiver after the baking heat outside. "Dad?"  
   
Alan Ackles looks up from the manila folder he's been reading. "Jensen. You're on time for once. I'm shocked." His voice is businesslike, and his face shows no emotion. "Sit down."  
   
Jensen swallows. His father's in full CEO mode, and that's never a good sign. He crosses the enormous room, allowing himself a short appreciative glance out of the window at the impressive view of the Dallas skyline. His father indicates a chair in front of his huge mahogany desk, and Jensen sits down, feeling like a student called to the principal's office and suppressing the irreverent urge to laugh.  
   
"So," he asks, resisting the powerful itch to put his feet up on his father's 10.000-dollar desk. "What's up, dad?"  
   
Alan reaches into his desk drawer without taking his eyes off his son. "Care to explain this?" he asks, tossing a newspaper over the table at Jensen.  
   
Jensen picks up the paper and glances at it briefly. "Oh, that. I admit it's not a good picture, but in my defense I didn't know I was being photographed, otherwise I'd have fixed my hair," Jensen says, every syllable affected nonchalance.  
   
His father just looks at him, and Jensen sees the disappointment there, feels it like a slap, even though he's so intimately familiar with it by now. "Oh for God's sake, Jensen," he says, and his voice finally registers emotion. Bitter, disappointed anger. "Why can't you grow up? Don't you see what you're doing to yourself? Don't you see what it does to your mother to see you in the paper, drunk off your ass and hanging on some guy like you're his bitch? For God's sake pull your head out of your ass, take the job I offered you and get a nice girl."  
   
Jensen allows himself a tiny smirk. "If I had a dollar for every time we’ve had this conversation, I wouldn't need your bank accounts. For the millionth time, Dad," he says, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, knowing getting bitchy will only make this worse, "I don't want your job, I don't know shit about the business, and I don't want to know shit about the business, I couldn’t care less about the oil industry, and I know you won't be around forever to handle the company, but when you're gone, I'll just hire a CEO and be done with it. And also," he adds with a gesture at the newspaper, "Dad, for the millionth time, I'm gay."  
   
"Nonsense." Alan makes a dismissive gesture as if wiping away Jensen's arguments. "You're an Ackles. I don't care how you get your pleasure, as long as I get grandchildren who'll take over the empire I've built on my back."  
   
He gets up and stalks to the window, pacing back and forth as he switches into preaching mode, and Jensen tunes out the minute his back is turned, having heard the 'I've built this by the sweat of my brow, so you and the coming generations will be able to live off the luxury my billions have bought; with great fortune comes great responsibility; the future of the company rests on your shoulders' speech about a million and one times.  
   
Bored, he picks up the newspaper and looks at the picture of him and Mike. Admittedly, it's raunchy. Both their shirts are open, and he's got his hands on Mike's hips. Briefly he considers telling his Dad the truth, that in spite of what it looks like in the picture, nothing happened with Mike, because he's got better taste than that. They're friends, and they got wasted together; that's the extent of the 'affair'. But his Dad wouldn't believe him anyway, and also it'd kind of undermine Jensen's entire point, namely that he's not fit to run any company, and that he's very, very gay.  
   
Still, the picture isn't very flattering, so Jensen turns the page, and when he reads the headlines, he freezes. PADALECKI INDUSTRIES FACES BANKRUPCY.  
   
"Gerald Padalecki is in financial trouble?" Jensen asks, interrupting his father mid-rant.  
   
Alan turns around to face Jensen. "What?"  
   
Jensen holds up the newspaper. "Padalecki Industries is in trouble?"  
   
For the first time since Jensen entered the room, Alan smiles. It's a pretty chilling sight. "Yes. Seems he made some unwise investments and lost his credit with the local banks. Looks like he's going to have to sell some of his assets."  
   
Looking down at the picture of Gerald in the paper, Jensen feels a sudden stab of nostalgia. Life was simpler then, before the rift. Before the oil. "Don't you think your schadenfreude is a bit beneath you?"  
   
Alan shrugs. "He got what's coming to him. I feel sorry for Sharon and the kids, but Gerald got what he deserved. He's not half the businessman I am, and finally you've got proof of that."  
   
Jensen smirks. "Just because he didn't happen to discover two oil springs in a run-down piece of farmland left to him by his grandma?"  
   
Alan's smile fades, and Jensen knows he's hit a sore spot. Alan doesn't like to hear that his fortune rests less on his own hard work than on a piece of barren Texas earth his grandmother left him, and which he found worthless until they, digging for water, discovered two large oil wells that made the family instantly rich, and his company an instant success. "I made something out of this money; I built the biggest oil refining company in Texas, boy. You think that was easy?"  
   
"No." And that's true. He doesn't think it was easy. He just thinks that billions from oil wells go a long way towards making it less difficult.  
   
 He sighs. "Can I go now?"  
   
Alan looks out of the window, and Jensen can see that the fight has gone out of his father. For now. "Fine. Go."   
   
Jensen's out of his chair in a heartbeat and by the door in .2 seconds. He only peripherally hears his father call after him, "Try not to choke on your own vomit, son."  
   
The door falls closed behind him, and Jensen smirks. Was that a hint of humor? Plus, solid advice for once. It could've gone a lot worse. This time.  
   
*-* 

The party is loud, crowded and stocked with every pleasure known to man or woman: booze, hot girls and hot guys, drugs, loud but good music, enough food to feed a small country and that most essential ingredient of every Texan summer party: An enormous friggin' pool.  
   
Trixi is holding court by the side of the pool, sitting in her plush pool chair with her little poodle and doing her best Paris Hilton impression.  
   
Jensen lounges on the opposite side of the pool with his guys. Steve and Chris are arguing loudly about the only subjects they ever talk about, tits and guitars, Mike's busy rolling the world's biggest joint and Tommy's staring at Trixi and the fawning boy at her side with badly veiled bitterness.  
   
"Let it go, Tommy. She left you; move on," Jensen says. He nudges Chris. "Hand me a cold one, will you?"  
   
Chris reaches into the cooler at his feet and hands out beers, then waves to one of the scantly clad serving girls over to hand her the empty cooler. "Fill that up for us, sweetheart, won't ya? And bring us a bottle of Jack while you're at it."  
   
"And some pizza rolls," Jensen calls after her. "You about finished, Mike?  
   
Mike grins. "Just about."  
   
Jensen resists the urge to growl. Even though it's nearly 11 pm, it's still just about baking hot out here, and his two jumps into the pool have done nothing to cool him off. Besides, there doesn't seem to be a single good-looking guy here who swings Jensen's way. He's used to having at least a potential partner lined up somewhere by now, but there isn't a piece of ass around that Jensen's actually interested in.  
   
There's a commotion at the other side of the pool, loud words exchanged, and suddenly there's the one thing this party lacked until now: a fight. Two guys are going for it, punches, and wrestling, and instantly the betting starts, but Jensen doesn't even bother because the guy with his back to them is about the size of Texas, and the other guy is Dohring, who's a giant asshole but physically on the small side - everywhere, as Jensen knows from experience.  
   
So while just about everybody else is cheering them on, Jensen is busy watching the tall guy's ass and thinking that this party just got way more interesting. Maybe when the fight's over he can take Manzilla with him to cool him off somewhere, get all that testosterone out of his system. Jensen grins.  
   
Predictably the two fighters land in the pool, spritzing on half the party, but Jensen doesn't mind. Wet hotass is even better than angry, sweating hotass.  
   
But then the oddest thing happens, the tall hottie surfaces from the pool, all wet and glistening and gorgeous, and then he turns around, and Jensen is hit with the same nostalgia he felt earlier in his dad's office.  
   
Then hottie looks up and frowns. "Jensen?"  
   
Jensen blinks at the hottie once, then twice, then the lightbulb goes on. "Jared? Jared friggin' Padalecki!"  
   
And before he's aware of moving, he's at the edge of the pool, holding out his hand to help Jared out of the pool.  
   
For a split second, Jared just looks at him, and Jensen wonders how the lanky kid he remembers from sun-drenched summers at the lake, and endless hours of computer games, and riding bikes, and hiding from their mothers, how this pimply, skinny kid has grown up into this giant hottie.  
   
But then Jared grins at him, flashing his perfect dimples, and Jensen suddenly wonders why he didn't recognize him before. Jared takes Jensen's hand, clasps it firmly, and hauls himself out of the pool with very little help from Jensen.  
   
"Hey, man, long time no see," he says.  
   
Jared's barely got his feet on the ground when Jensen feels himself drawn into a one-armed bear-hug, and Jared's clapping him on the back like it's going out of fashion. "Jensen, man, I'm glad to see you."  
   
Jensen doesn't exactly know how to respond to that, because he's pressed against 6'5'' of wet, well-muscled guy, and not that he doesn't enjoy that, but thinking of Jared that way now seems somehow creepy, like thinking that way about the little brother he never had. So he claps Jared on the shoulder and nudges him to step back. "Dude, glad to see you too, but, ya know, audience?"  
   
Jared steps back and smiles sheepishly at Jensen. "Sorry, man."  
   
Jensen waves off the apology with a hand gesture and points at the other side of the pool. "Not that it's any of my business, and not that it doesn't show you've got good taste in enemies, but what's with you and Dohring, man? You were never exactly the fight-picking type."  
   
Smile fading, Jared looks down at the tiled floor. "I assume you know about the company?"  
   
Jensen nods. "Yeah, hard to miss with my dad gloating all over it."  
   
"Yeah, figured he'd love the news," Jared says with an ironic smile. "Anyway, Dohring found it funny that the country club threw out my momma yesterday, because we couldn't pay the fees anymore."  
   
"Asshole." Jensen glares at Dohring, who glares right back, sitting at Trixi's feet like a beaten dog. "Doesn't look like you hurt him too badly, unfortunately."  
   
"Yep," Jared says, but there's something like satisfaction in his tone. "But I messed up his hair, and you know how much that gets to guys like Dohring. He won't get laid tonight."  
   
Jensen grins and looks at Jared, who's grinning back like the Cheshire cat, and again Jensen sees the boy he used to know in the guy before him. 

"Man, how long since we last saw each other?"  
   
"Thirteen years, give or take?" Jared asks, pushing his wet hair off his face. The wet look is good for him, not that Jensen notices. Much.  
   
"Probably." He gestures over at his guys, who're watching him with amused expressions while passing around Mike's joint, and the invitation to join them dies on his lips. Instead, he says, "Wait a sec," and goes over to the guys.  
   
"I'm gonna split, guys, met an old friend, and we're gonna do some catching up."  
   
Short silence falls, then all four guys snort. "Yeah, Jensen," Mike drawls, "you go 'catch up' with the hottie."  
   
Jensen flips Mike off, feeling irrationally offended about something he’d seriously been planning not five minutes ago. "Whatever! I'm outta here."  
   
He turns around and grabs the bottle of Jack from the cooler before walking away, ignoring the cat-calls and snickers from his friends.  
   
Jared's watching him, smiling, his expression more than a little amused. "They think you're gettin' laid?"  
   
Jensen shrugs, and goddamn it, he actually maybe even blushes a tiny bit. "Yeah, kinda."  
   
But Jared only laughs and wraps an arm around Jensen's shoulder. "Hope it's at least good for your reputation."  
   
For once, Jensen can't actually bring himself to care.  
   
*-*  
   
"So what about Megan and Jeff?" Jensen asks. The heat is slowly beginning to fade into the cool of late night. They can actually see a few stars in the sky. The party noises sound far away this deep in the Halpern mansion garden, and Jensen has no intention of going back, especially since the fountain they're sitting by is cooling his feet and the light breeze is cooling the rest of him. He takes the whisky bottle from Jared. Half of it is already gone with, 'Remember when...' and, 'Whatever happened to...'.  
   
Jared makes a vague gesture Jensen thinks is supposed to express a 'you know how life is' sentiment. "Jeff's a doctor. He moved to Phoenix and got married last summer. Meg's at Yale. She's a drama student, God save her," he says, snickering at the last bit.  
   
Jensen chuckles. "Remember that one rainy summer we dressed up in sheets and hid all over the house?"  
   
Jared laughs. "I remember the talking-to my momma gave us when she figured out we'd scared Meg."  
   
"Yeah." Jensen sighs, amused. "She's one scary woman if she wants to be."   
   
His amusement fades when he remembers what Jared told him earlier. "How's she holdin' up?"  
   
Jared sighs, and Jensen can see the worry in his face. "Not good. It's not so much the country club, or the fact that this year they can't do Barbados, it’s Dad. She's so worried about him, and so am I."  
   
Jensen hands Jared the whisky, and Jared takes a deep chug of it. Jensen watches him drink. It's still weird sitting here with this grown man the boy he knew has become. This smart, funny, intelligent, just returned home with his spankin' new Princeton MBA, grown man who's got so little and still so much of the boy Jensen remembers in him.  
   
"What happened?" Jensen asks. "To the company, I mean."  
   
"I don't exactly know," Jared says, putting the whisky down. "It was already pretty bad when I joined six months ago. Apparently we've had trouble getting jobs lately. The big contracts all go to other firms, which makes no sense, since I know we're the cheapest provider of oil production supplies in the state."  
   
"Market draught?" Jensen guesses, because really, he doesn't know the first thing about business.  
   
"Nah." Jared shakes his head. "Oil market's healthier than it ever was, what with gas prices going up everywhere. No, it's something else, but I don't know what. All I know is we're hemorrhaging money we don't have, we're constantly producing under capacity and selling cheaper than we can actually afford to get any business whatsoever, and we can't get a bank loan because suddenly, all banks in the greater Dallas area don't trust us."  
   
Jensen lays a hand on Jared's shoulder and squeezes. Jared's skin is warm under Jensen's palm, but not unpleasantly so. "Sorry, man. Look, I'm sure you'll fix it, you and your dad, right, Mr. Princeton MBA?"  
   
Jared smiles at him, softly. "Yeah, I hope so."  
   
Jensen claps his hand firmly on Jared's back. "I'm sure you will. Now hand over the whisky, bitch."  
   
That startles a laugh out of Jared, and Jensen grins. Mission accomplished. He slips his feet out of the pool and then just lets himself fall on his back onto the cool grass.  
   
He takes a sip of whisky.  "Remember that time, you were about six or so, when Jeff and I painted you green from head to toe and let you ride on that cow?"  
   
*-*  
   
There's a ringing somewhere near Jensen's head. A steady, consistent, rhythmic ringing that makes Jensen's head pulse in corresponding waves of stabbing pain.  
   
"Oh, God," Jensen moans, "shut the hell up!"  
   
He opens his eyes and immediately wishes he hadn't. The world's spinning, and he has a deep and powerful urge to vomit. He crawls into his bathroom and vomits up the contents of his roiling stomach, then just lies there and presses his forehead against the cool tiles.  
   
That ringing sound again.  
   
Cell phone, Jensen's slowly waking brain supplies.  
   
He crawls back into his bedroom and reaches for his cell phone on the nightstand. "Yeah?" he croaks.  
   
"Hi Jensen, it's Eliza." She sounds way too awake for Jensen to appreciate before coffee.  
   
"Hi Eliza, what's up? Working on a Saturday?" he asks, and his voice sounds like somebody took a rasp to his vocal cords.  
   
"What're you gonna do, we have a lot of catching up to do. Anyway, I've got your father on hold for you." She hesitates briefly. "But, well, I just wanted to say... well, yes."  
   
Jensen blinks and rubs a hand over his face, wondering whether he's still drunk enough to have missed a part of the conversation. "Yes what?"  
   
There's a brief silence at the other end of the line that Jensen interprets as embarrassment. "Well..." Again a pause. Then she blurts out, "Don't be angry with your dad, but he kind of slipped up and said you wanted to ask me out but weren't sure I'd say yes, but you can ask me, you know, I won't say no, I promise."  
   
Jensen feels like vomiting all over again, even though he's pretty sure his stomach is as empty as it goes. He likes this girl. He does. But not like that. "That's good to know, Eliza. Please put my Dad on, now. I've gotta talk to him urgently."  
   
"Sure," she answers, and to her credit her tone doesn't change.  
   
There's a click and about five seconds of annoying hold music, then his father's voice. "Jensen?"  
   
"What the hell were you thinking telling that poor girl I'm into her?" Jensen asks, angry that he's too hungover to properly yell.  
   
Jensen's father has no such problems, apparently. "What the hell were you thinking taking the Padalecki boy home with you in front of the sons and daughters of every important person in the greater Dallas area?" he yells, and Jensen thinks he can feel his head vibrate.  
   
"Don't change the subject, Dad, you told this girl I liked her when you know for a fact that I'm gay," Jensen retorts, his anger now rivaling his headache.  
   
 Jensen hears his father sigh on the other end of the line. "You do like her; you always sit and talk to her when you come here."  
   
Jensen's head feels like it's being used as the ball in a Cowboys game. "Dad, talking to her about the weather doesn't mean I wanna marry her and have lots of babies."  
   
"You could do worse. She's intelligent, pretty, she's a nice girl with excellent family connections." Alan sounds almost defensive of his choice for Jensen, which would be funny if Jensen wasn't so angry. "She's got a solid head on her shoulders, maybe some of her sense would rub off on you."  
   
"Dad, she's still a GIRL, and I don't like GIRLS."  
   
"Don't change the subject," his Dad says gruffly. "What are you doing screwing around with that Padalecki boy?"  
   
Jensen opens his mouth to say, "I'm not..."  
   
"He's not good for you, Jensen," his father interrupts. "They're going down, and they're just gonna drag everybody who associates with them down with them."  
    
Jensen grits his teeth. "I hang out with whoever I like, Dad. And don't talk about him like that. And tell Eliza you misunderstood me and I don't actually want to go out with her."  
   
"Jensen..."  
   
But Jensen's had it. He presses the disconnect button and for the first time in years misses having a phone you can actually slam down for effect.  
   
Then he buries his head in his pillow and groans. "Please, God, tell me I'm adopted."  
   
*-*  
   
It's a while before he can muster the will and the ability to actually get out of bed. By the time he does, it's nearly noon.  
   
He stumbles downstairs and towards the kitchen.  
   
The snoring sound coming from the lump on his living room couch is a bit of a headscratcher, until he remembers that somewhere between going to his place to hang out and emptying the second bottle of Jack he offered Jared the option to crash at his place.  
   
_Anyway,_ Jensen thinks. _Coffee._  
   
With that thought firmly in mind, Jensen reaches the kitchen and fills the coffee maker.  
   
Soon, the smell of his Brazilian finest floats through the house, and Jensen feels a lot better. What he needs now is bacon. And pancakes.  
   
Damn, why didn't he ever hire a cook?  
   
With probably unwarranted concentration, Jensen fixes himself a cup of coffee and manages not to spill anything. He takes his first sip and closes his eyes, lets the caffeine transform him into a human being again.  
   
"Morning."  
   
Jensen starts, then remembers. Right. Snoring lump on his couch. Jared.  
   
He turns around and doesn't find it at all difficult to smile, because Jared looks rumpled and hungover with about a thousand cowlicks making his head look like an abstract sculpture by an artist overly fond of human hair and electricity. "Dude, you look awful," he says, unable to suppress the glee he feels.  
   
Jared blinks at him, sleepy and looking slightly nauseous. "Gee, thanks. Water?"  
   
Jensen grins. So not arrived at the full sentences station. But seeing as he's the host and not a complete asshole, he gets Jared a bottle of water and even throws in a cup of steaming hot coffee.  
   
Jared downs the water and sips the coffee, and slowly Jensen notices that Jared too is rejoining the human race.  
   
He sits down at the breakfast counter and Jared slips onto a barstool opposite him. Groaning, he tries to straighten his hair with his fingers, a pretty futile exercise. "Man, I haven't been this wasted since my high school graduation party."  
   
Jensen shrugs. "I haven't been this wasted since... well, last week, actually."  
   
Jared gives this half-scoffing laugh that's somehow both admiring and somewhat deprecating. "I don't know how you do it."  
   
"Well, being a total slacker helps," Jensen says, but even he knows he's only half joking.  
   
Jared looks up from his coffee, eyes fixing on Jensen, snapping into focus, and suddenly Jensen has the urge to blush, to straighten his hair, to do something to his rumpled t-shirt. "What?" he asks, caught between embarrassed and almost turned on by the way having Jared's undivided attention just makes him feel warm inside.  
   
And then Jared smiles, and Jensen's no longer embarrassed at all, because Jared's face just opens up when he smiles, like every single muscle in his face is smiling along with his mouth. "I... thank you for last night."  
   
Jensen grins and ducks his head, suddenly embarrassed again. "For what, getting you drunk and making you sleep on the couch when I've got a perfectly good guest room available?"  
   
"That too," Jared answers, and there's no sarcasm in his voice, only amusement and warmth. "Mostly for gettin' me out of my own head for a bit. I needed that. I needed to have fun again for a change."  
   
It makes Jensen oddly proud that he's credited with the achievement of having made Jared have fun. "Well," he says, grinning, "I had fun too."  
   
Jensen gestures at the stairs. "Why don't you shower and let me treat you for breakfast? I know this awesome pancake place."  
   
Jared raises an eyebrow. "This awesome pancake place isn't by any chance IHOP?"  
   
Grinning, Jensen nods. "Yep."  
   
"Lifestyles of the rich and famous. Why don't you have a cook, anyway?" Jared asks, eyes sparkling playfully.  
   
"Jesus, you're a princess," Jensen shoots back, falling into the banter as easily as breathing. "Now go shower, you stink. And hurry, I'd like to get breakfast sometime before dinner."  
   
Jared sighs and gets up. "Bitch, bitch, bitch," he murmurs, but moves towards the stairs anyway. "All you ever do is bitch."  
   
"Shut up, Giantzilla, and don't break my shower," Jensen calls after him, grinning like a maniac and giddy like a schoolgirl. Must be the residual alcohol.  
   
*-*  
   
Jensen doesn't even look at the menu, just orders his usual, blueberry pancakes, tall latte, orange juice, three slices of bacon.  
   
Jared flips open the menu and starts reading it with an earnestness that's really ridiculously cute.  
   
"Chocolate chip pancakes are awesome," Jensen says, quietly, more to have something to do other than look at Jared frowning at the menu.  
   
Jared nods and shuts the menu. "I think I'll have them."  
   
The waitress arrives with Jensen’s latte and Jared seizes the opportunity to order chocolate chip pancakes, a tall cappuccino, three slices of bacon and half a grapefruit.  
   
"Weirdo," Jensen murmurs, trying and failing to hide his smile behind his coffee cup.  
   
Jared just grins. "Always have been, always will be."  
   
"I remember, man, believe me. You were the one that started with the whole ant-eating thing, remember?" Jensen shudders with disgust.  
   
Jared shrugs, grinning. "I'm not six anymore, dude."  
   
Jensen snorts. "I noticed. You're the Empire State Building of people, man. Trees could die in your shadow."  
   
"Fuck you," Jared says, but it's casual, and comfortable, and Jensen ignores him.  
   
"My dad thinks I hooked up with you last night, by the way," Jensen says, totally non sequitur but for the fact that it's been on his mind since the phone call earlier. "He was hella pissed."  
   
Jared pouts at Jensen, mocking and exaggerated. "I'm crushed."  
   
"You know what he did this morning?" Jensen asks, gesturing with his coffee cup and nearly spilling half of it. "He told his assistant, a nice girl, really, and kinda hot too for a girl, but you know, a GIRL, that I like her and wanna take her out."  
   
"Doesn't he know you're gay?" Jared's doing his earnest frowning thing again.     
   
"Sure he knows, he just won't accept it," Jensen answers with a shrug. "He constantly tries to push these nice, sexy girls at me."  
   
Jared grins. "Maybe he hopes one of them will stick?"  
   
Jensen glares at Jared over the rim of his coffee cup. "I don't want them to stick." He takes a sip of his coffee and puts the cup down. "I just want him to stay out of my business."  
   
The waitress arrives with Jared’s coffee and their pancakes and for a few moments, they're quiet, digging into their food.  
   
"Maybe you could talk to him about the whole setting you up thing? I mean, it's gotta annoy the hell out of your boyfriend, if you've got one," Jared says around a mouthful of pancakes.  
   
Jensen snorts. "Boyfriend. Right. Yeah."  
   
Jared frowns. "What?"  
   
"I don't exactly do boyfriends, J," Jensen says, slowly, like talking to a five-year old. "Chicks have boyfriends. I have one-night stands."  
   
"There's your problem, then," Jared answers, not in the least fazed. "Your dad won't take you seriously, until you prove to him that being gay isn't just a way to get off for you."  
   
"Hm." Jensen looks down at the mess of pancakes, sauce and syrup on his plate. "Maybe you've got a point, Oprah."  
   
"Bite me."  
   
Silence falls again as they both turn their attention back on their breakfast.  
   
"Can't believe you called me J. Nobody’s called me J since, like, sixth grade," Jared murmurs, but he sounds more amused than annoyed.  
   
"Yeah, well, get used to it, bitch," Jensen shoots back automatically.  
   
Jared grins. "And explain to me again why you don't have a boyfriend, you sweet-talking charm machine, you?"  
   
"Shut up, Sasquatch."  
   
*-*  
   
Jared sighs. "Sometimes I wish I'd stayed back east. Less heat. Less family trouble."  
   
They're sitting on the grass near the river, having fled under the shade of the trees growing there to escape the heat of an early Texas afternoon. It's only mildly less hot here than it is in the sun, but the breeze from the river makes it bearable.  
   
"But you can fix the family trouble, right?" Jensen asks, leaning against a tree.  
   
"Maybe," Jared says, softly.  
   
"What do you mean, maybe?"  
   
Jared's fingers are ripping out blades of grass, letting them fly in the wind. "Problem is, two of our major stockholders have hired a consultant to develop a business plan for how the company could get out of the red. My dad only holds 30% of the stock; he has to go through the stockholders for major changes in company policy. In two months, at the stockholder conference, the major stockholders get to vote on a new business model, and our model will be up against the model the consulting company's come up with. If the stockholders vote for the consultants’ model, the company will be bankrupt within a year."  
   
"That bad?" Jensen asks, looking at Jared's hands in the grass. They're really big hands.  
   
Jared nods, a small worry line creasing his forehead. "The consultants' business plan involves outsourcing and selling every part of the company that doesn't turn a profit, meaning the only part of the company left untouched will be the service department."  
   
"And this is a bad thing why? It sounds sensible," Jensen says, pretending he understands, pretending he actually cares about these details.  
   
"It sounds sensible, yes, but the problem is, service now turns a profit, because we manufacture replacement parts ourselves, if we had to pay market prices for the spare parts we need, we'd never turn a profit. Meaning if the only part of the business left to us is service, we're as good as doomed. On the other hand, if the stockholders let us implement our business plan, the one my Dad, our CFO and I are working on, which involves a lot of streamlining and downsizing, but leaves our core business intact, then maybe we stand a chance. If we can even keep the company going, which we won't unless we get a bank loan."  
   
"How much money are we talking about?" Jensen asks, taking off his sunglasses and tossing them on the ground between them.  
   
"Let me think." Jared looks down, thinking. "Hm, to keep us going for two months, until the stockholder conference? About five million dollars."  
   
Five million dollars. It's almost ridiculous to think about how much money that must seem to Jared. How insignificant five million dollars are to him, or to his dad.  
   
_I could buy the entire company without breaking a sweat,_ he thinks. Of course he'd have no idea what to do with it.  
   
Jared does, though. Jared's got a business plan and all.  
   
"Funny how life goes, sometimes," Jensen muses, leaning back against the tree again. "Ever since he struck oil, my dad lights his cigarettes with that kind of money."  
   
Jared looks at him, quizzical expression on his face. "Did your dad ever let slip why exactly he and my dad hate each other?"  
   
Jensen shakes his head. "Nope."  
   
"It didn't used to be like this," Jared says, softly.  
   
Jensen closes his eyes and rests his head against the tree. "No it wasn't."  
   
When they were children, Jensen's dad would've been the first to help the Padaleckis. The families were practically inseparable. Alan and Gerald worked for the same company, both ambitious junior executives, competitive, but friendly. The families lived next door and spent their summers in neighboring cabins at the lake. Jensen, only child that he is was, fit in age perfectly between the Padalecki brothers, two years younger than Jeff and two years older than Jared, and the brothers took him on as one of their own. He spent his days over at their house, they played together, laughed together, got caught together. Their mothers were friends and took turns watching them and feeding them.  
   
And then, suddenly, from one day to the next, both Jensen's dad and Jared's dad left the company they worked for. Both founded their own companies. Their fathers stopped speaking, their mothers stopped being friends, Jensen was no longer allowed to go over to the Padalecki house.  
   
And then the oil came. Jensen was 13 when his family went from upper middle class to being wealthier than Jensen could imagine.  
Suddenly, they weren't living in their suburban house anymore, but a large, maze-like mansion. Suddenly, he was transferred to a fancy private school. Suddenly, his parents gave him every toy he wanted, every game and gadget, every whim was indulged, just because they could. Suddenly, he'd been transported into another world, as far away from his friends as if he'd moved to another planet. Suddenly, Jensen was alone.  
   
They moved in different circles, went to different schools, lived at opposite ends of the city. Jensen now had a nanny, and his parents being rarely home anymore.  
   
He hadn’t seen any of the Padalecki siblings again until last night when Jared suddenly re-entered his life.  
   
No, Jensen doesn't know why their fathers hate each other. And he doesn't actually care, not really. If he knows his dad at all, it probably had to do with him being an enormous dick.  
   
Jensen sighs, shifting closer to Jared. "Look, J..."  
   
A cell phone is ringing not too far away, and he hears the click of high heels on the asphalt next to their grassy patch of green. "Hello?" A female voice. A female voice Jensen recognizes.  
   
The heels come closer, and Jensen looks at Jared, who's staring at him, confused. "What?" he asks, wetting his lips with his tongue.  
   
And Jensen has a really, really stupid idea. _I'll apologize later,_ he thinks and grabs Jared by the collar, yanking his head down and kissing him full on the lips.  
   
Jared's lips are soft and warm, and Jensen resists the urge to lick over them, because Jared's pretty much frozen in shock. He makes a small gasping sound against Jensen's lips but doesn't move back when Jensen holds on to him, kissing him, softly, chastely, all the while listening for... oh, there it is, a shocked little gasp and the movement of the heels towards them.  
   
He draws back and smiles sheepishly, straightening Jared's shirt collar.   
   
Jared looks dazed, surprised, but not angry, and he touches his fingers to his lips in a way that almost makes Jensen forget the point of the exercise. "Jensen, what the..."  
   
But he never finishes, because right that moment, a figure approaches. "Jensen?"   
   
Reluctantly, he turns towards the newcomer. "Eliza, hi."  
    
Eliza tries to smile, but Jensen can see she's flustered. She's carrying a small plastic food container so Jensen assumes she's on lunch break. Makes sense, his dad's office building is right around the corner. "Jensen, hello," she says, trying and failing to sound cheerful.  
   
"Nice to see you," he says with a smile. "This is Jared." He turns to Jared, who still looks confused as hell, giving him a 'please, please play along' look. "My boyfriend. Jared, this is Eliza, my dad's assistant."   
   
_Please, please, J, please don't deck me,_ he thinks, turning back to Eliza.  
   
Turns out he doesn't need to worry about Jared, because the bastard has shaken off his surprise and is all Texas charm, flashing Eliza the full force of his dimples and holds out his hand, shaking Eliza's pleasantly. "A pleasure to meet you."  
   
Eliza smiles back uncertainly, looking really embarrassed. "Pleasure's all mine." She turns to Jensen. "Oh my god, I feel like such an idiot. Jensen, I'm sorry for this morning; I had no idea."  
   
Jensen smiles, hoping it seems genuine. He doesn't like lying to her, but it's probably the most painless and permanent way to let her down easy. "It's all right; you had no way of knowing. My dad must have misunderstood when I said I liked you."  
   
She nods and snorts this little self-depreciating laugh. "Yes, he must have."  
   
Jensen's smile turns more genuine. "Look, no harm, no foul, right?"  
   
"I guess," she says, returning Jensen's smile, pulling herself together like the class act Jensen knows she is. "Okay, well, then I think I'll go and suffocate myself with my salad."  
   
"Good to know you're not taking it to heart," Jared says, and from anyone else the sentence might sound mean, but Jared's flashing his dimples and just looks and sounds so genuinely nice that Jensen can see Eliza's embarrassment melt.  
   
She laughs. "Yeah, exactly. Okay, guys, have a nice afternoon. Jensen, I'll see you around."  
   
"Bye, Eliza," Jensen says, pretty much at the same time as Jared, and Eliza retreats rather speedily.  
   
As soon as she's out of earshot, Jensen turns to Jared, ducking his head and trying to look like he's sorry. "Um, sorry?"  
   
Jared shakes his head, clearly more amused than annoyed, even though Jensen can tell he's a little irritated as well. "Dude, warn a guy next time. You do realize she's gonna tell your dad about this, right?"  
   
Jensen grins. "That's the beauty of it. You said yourself, maybe if my dad thinks I've got a boyfriend, he'll leave me alone."  
   
"Problem is, though, you don't actually _have_ a boyfriend," Jared points out. "What're you gonna do if your dad wants to meet this boyfriend of yours?"  
   
"You and your goddamned sensible objections," Jensen grumbles. "On the other hand..."  
   
He surreptitiously looks Jared up and down.  
   
No. He can't possibly... can't even consider...  
   
"On the other hand what?" Jared asks, mouth twitching as if he's holding back an amused smile.  
   
Oh, what the hell. "I've got an idea. It's a bit crazy."  
   
Jared shrugs. "I didn't expect anything but crazy from you. Let's hear it."  
   
Jensen turns to Jared, talking quickly, so Jared won't interrupt him, "Okay, here's the thing. We make a deal. You play my boyfriend. In return, I lend you the money you need to keep afloat until your stockholder thingy."  
   
Jared's quiet for a moment, looking at Jensen, an undecipherable emotion in his eyes. "You know what? I've got a better idea. I play your boyfriend, you keep your money."  
   
Okay, that's not at all the answer Jensen expected. He looks up at Jared, into his earnest, serious eyes, and curses the dammed fool's sense of goddamned integrity to hell, not to mention his own total inability to exploit that idiotic sense of integrity. "Look, that's not the point. Quid pro quo. I'm asking a lot here, okay? You'd have to move in with me, go to parties with me. I know my dad, he's gonna interrogate my friends, the staff at my apartment building, pretty much everybody I know. You help me out; I help you out."  
   
Suddenly, there's this nasty little voice in his head, whispering, _Take him up on it, he's offering to do it for free; why are you stupid enough to try to argue him out of it?_  
   
But if he's entirely honest with himself, that's not the point of the exercise. The point is, in fact, getting Jared to take the money to save his company, and for Jensen to score a fake boyfriend out of it. Quid pro quo. Something for something. He knows Jared wouldn't take money from him any other way.  
   
Jared shakes his head. "I don't know, man. Save the family business by pretending to be your boyfriend?"  
   
Jensen shrugs. "Question is, Jared, how desperate are you?"  
   
Jared looks down at the ground. "Pretty damned desperate, actually," he says, voice low and rough, defeated.  
   
"So you gotta ask yourself, what's worth more, your pride or your familiy's future?" Jensen asks, hating himself just a tiny bit for pushing the point.  
   
Silence falls. Jensen's watching Jared gaze at the grassy ground as if it's an oracle, telling him what to do.  
   
Finally, Jared shakes his head. "No." He looks up, a tiny sad smile on his face. "Thank you for the offer, but no." His voice is soft and low, and Jensen has to bite his lip, because damned if this doesn't feel like a rejection that's much more personal than he would like.  
   
He shrugs, going for nonchalant, as if it doesn't matter at all that Jared turned him down. He doesn't know why it does, why the rejection stings cold and bitter. "Okay. Your call."  
   
There's a moment of silence, and for the first time it feels awkward.  
   
Jared checks his watch, a nervous, embarrassed gesture. "I should get home."  
   
Jensen gets up from the ground and holds out a hand for Jared.  
   
Jared hesitates for a split second, but then he takes Jensen's hand and lets him help Jared up.  
   
"I'll drive you," Jensen says.  
   
Jared smiles, nods. "Thank you."  
   
   
*-*  
   
Jensen takes the '97 Porsche convertible he just finished tuning up out of the garage, and her purring when he hits the gas is almost enough to soothe him. Almost.  
   
They drive in relative silence. The Porsche's engine, and Jensen's brand of dirty rock music drown out any wish for conversation.  
   
Jensen hasn't been to this neck of Dallas since they moved away. The streets are familiar, even though he’s only ever ridden his bike down them, rather than an expensive European sports car.  
   
He stops in front of the Padalecki house and turns off the engine. The house still looks pretty much the same, and again Jensen feels the pull of nostalgia in his guts. "Hasn't changed much," he says, hoping his voice doesn't sound as rough as it feels.  
   
Jared gives him a tiny smile, all emotion, no humor. "No, it hasn't. Yes, it has."  
   
Jensen's pretty sure Jared isn't talking about the house. "Don't be a stranger, okay? Call sometime, and we'll have a drink."  
   
Jared hesitates over the door handle. "Jensen?" His voice is quiet in the stuffy silence of the car.  
   
"Yeah?" he answers, not much louder than Jared.  
   
"I...we...you wanna come in?"  
   
_That's not what you wanted to say_ , he thinks. "Nah. Not sure your parents would like that."  
   
Jared smiles at him, then, warm, and something in Jensen's guts twists. "I'm sure they would."  
   
Jensen doesn't know how to respond to that, and Jared finally nods and gets out of the car. "I'll see you around, yeah?"  
   
Jensen nods. "Yeah."  
   
As he drives off, he watches Jared looking after him in the rearview mirror, until the house is out of sight.  
   
*-*  
   
Home is empty and silent. Jensen rummages in the fridge for something edible. He finds a six-pack, a slice of cheese that may already be alive, and a pizza menu.  
   
He orders a family-size pepperoni pizza and settles down in front of the TV with the remote. It's only six, but maybe one of the pay per view channels will have decent porn.  
   
Simpsons reruns. Boring. Dawson's Creek reruns. Horrible. Indiana Jones marathon. He owns the DVD set. Still, he settles for Harrison Ford wisecracking and beating the shit out of Nazis.  
   
Doorbell. That'll be his pizza. He gets up and grabs his wallet.  
   
He opens the door and pretty much freezes with his hand inside his wallet. "You're not the pizza guy."  
   
Jared grins, sheepish. "If you insist I can get some and come back with it?"  
   
"Hm." Jensen scratches his head, pretending to consider the offer. "Nah, seeing as I've already ordered and stuff."  
   
He leans against the doorframe. "So," he says, looking Jared up and down deliberately. "Long time no see."  
   
Jared runs a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed. "Yeah, well, sorry to bust in like this. I wanted to call."  
   
"You don't have my number," Jensen points out, folding his arms over his chest.  
   
"Hence the not calling," Jared says, smiling, flashing his dimples.  
   
Jensen snorts. "Hence. You wanna come in, Shakespeare, and tell me why you're here?"  
   
Jared nods, grateful. "Thank you."  
   
Jensen steps back into the apartment, and Jared follows. He goes straight through to the living room and switches off the TV, then turns to Jared, who's leaning against the counter that separates the living room from the open plan kitchen. He's clearly uncomfortable, slouching as if trying to make himself seem smaller, not an easy feat, since he’s a damned giant.  
   
"So..." Jensen says, trying to prompt Jared to say something.  
   
Jared's studying the floorboards with unwarranted fascination. "Um..."  
   
Jensen rolls his eyes and sighs, exasperated. It's been an exhausting day, frankly, and he just wants to sit in front of the TV and watch porn, get all these confusing emotions out of his head. "What do you want, Jared?"  
   
"You were right," Jared says, quietly, looking up at Jensen, indecipherable emotion in his eyes.  
   
Jensen leans against the back of the couch and crosses his arms over his chest. "Not a sentence I hear very often. Right about what?"  
   
"What you said about pride, and whether it's more important than my family's future?" Jared answers with a tiny smile. "You were right. It isn't."  
   
"I think that was more of a question than a statement," Jensen says, biting his lips to keep from grinning. It's pretty obvious why Jared's here, but he'll be damned if he won't make Jared say it.  
   
Jared laughs quietly, more air than sound. "Right. You're gonna make me say it, won't you?" he asks, as if he's read Jensen's mind.  
   
Jensen nods. "You bet your ass I am. I've got my pride, too, you know."  
   
Jared looks down at his feet, fighting a smile and losing. "Jensen?"  
   
"Yes?" Jensen asks, trying for nonchalance and landing somewhere near giddy.  
   
Jared looks up again, straight at Jensen, flashing the full force of his smile at him, dimples and all. "Would you maybe reconsider taking me on as your fake boyfriend?"  
   
"Hm." Jensen leans back, surveying Jared like he's a car, and he’s thinking of buying it. "Well..." He pauses, just to annoy Jared. "Okay," he finally says with a long-suffering sigh, the effect of which is totally ruined by the grin nearly splitting his face in half.  
   
Letting out a breath of relief, Jared slumps onto a barstool. "Thank you."  
   
The doorbell rings, and Jensen goes to answer. "Just be glad I ordered a family-sized pizza or I'd have thrown you out on your ass."  
   
*-*  
   
The pizza is nearly finished, and neither of them has said a word about their deal through the entire meal. They talked about the Cowboys and discussed the Mavs' chances this season, but now they're both finished with dinner, and Jensen knows this is the time to talk about how he's gonna give Jared five million dollars without his dad finding out what he's using it for, and how Jared's gonna pretend he's intimately acquainted with the contents of Jensen's pants.  
   
"Watching games must be awesome on your TV," Jared says, pointing at the TV, wiping his fingers with a napkin and throwing it into the pizza carton.  
   
Jensen nods, absently, and for a moment, silence settles.  
   
_Now would be the time,_ Jensen thinks. _Now would be the time to say something serious._  
   
"Want the grand tour?" he asks.  
   
Jared nods, obviously relieved. "Yeah, love to."  
   
_Okay,_ Jensen thinks. _Maybe serious can wait a bit longer._  
   
*-*  
   
He takes Jared over the apartment, the way he didn't before, when they were too drunk and too hungover respectively to care. The downstairs is pretty unspectacular anyway, big living room and open plan kitchen he never uses, big dining table he never uses. Upstairs he shows Jared the guest room, huge king-size bed and walk-in closet, desk facing a great view of downtown Dallas.  
   
He saves the best for last, opens the sliding doors to the roof terrace from the main corridor. "We're directly over the couch and TV area of the living room now," he says, making way for Jared to step outside.  
   
 "Wow."  
   
Jensen shrugs. "It's nothing special."  
   
Jared steps out into the cool evening breeze and gestures out at the admittedly pretty spectacular view of the city from Jensen's roof terrace. "Are you kidding? This is amazing."  
   
Jensen follows and sits down in a lounge chair, watching Jared as he walks around the terrace, looking at plants and checking out different angles of the view over downtown Dallas. The sun has just set, and the heat of the day is slowly fading as the city below them enters the long summer dusk.  
   
"How old is this building?" Jared asks, leaning over the balustrade to look at the building's facade.  
   
"Early twenties," Jensen says. "Used to be a factory then, but they did fancy loft conversions in the eighties."  
   
Jared looks at him, turning his face into the breeze. "Funny, I never would've pegged you for the historical type."  
   
"Me neither, until I saw this place, that is," Jensen answers, gesturing about him at the red brick walls and the view. "Of course, I had a lot of work done. My apartment used to be four lofts. I had almost the entire outer wall of the penthouse loft taken out to make this terrace."  
   
"I can see why you did it, the view is amazing." Jared's tone is admiring, and Jensen feels an embarrassing warm flush rise to his face, glad for the growing dusk that hides it.  
   
He looks around the red brick, modern wood floors, the plants, the glass balustrade, and the whirlpool built into the floor, tries to see it the way it must seem to Jared, ridiculously anxious about Jared's opinion. "You like it?"  
   
Jared nods, smiling. "It's pure, heavenly decadence, it stinks of money, and yet it's..." Jared shrugs, "Kinda homey."  
   
Jensen grins. "Exactly what I was going for." And there it is again, this quiet rush of pleasure at Jared's approval, and it's beginning to annoy him that it means so much.  
   
Jared leans against the wooden part of the balustrade, stretching his arms out, grinning happily. "Honestly?" he says, "Space to stretch my arms over my head. I love it."  
   
"Well, for the next eight weeks, it's all yours," Jensen answers. "You gotta try the whirlpool later. It's got two settings, heaven and orgasm."  
   
Jared laughs. "Which one's better?"  
   
Jensen grins, winking. "I'll leave that for you to decide."  
   
Silence falls in the comfortable half-light of an endless summer dusk. Soon it'll be dark, but up here the transition from dusk to smog-glow from the city will be hardly noticeable.  
   
"So when are we gonna talk about this?" Jared asks quietly into the twilight.  
   
Jensen sighs and gestures for Jared to sit down. "Now, I guess?"  
   
Jared sits down heavily. "I... Jensen, before we go ahead with this, I need you to know there's a good chance you won't see a penny of that money again."  
   
Jensen looks up at Jared and sighs. "Look, J, let's get one thing straight. I firmly believe that you've got the brains, and the dedication to turn your company around and make me a hefty sum of money in the process. But even if you don't," he says, putting a hand on Jared's arm, warm muscle and warm skin reassuring under his fingers, "I think I'll manage." He tries to keep the dry sarcasm out of his voice, but judging by Jared's wry smile, he's not entirely successful.  
   
"Okay, Mr. Big n' Rich, I get it," Jared says with a cynical smirk Jensen doesn't like to see, "you're loaded."  
   
Jensen grins naughtily, automatic defense against the hard lines around Jared's smile, and says in his best smarmy dick voice, "In every way, sugar."  
   
Jared chuckles reluctantly. "Could you be serious for one second?"  
   
Jensen smirks. "Me? Never." But he is serious, actually, and he thinks Jared gets that on some level, because his smile loses that hard, cynical edge, and he relaxes back into the lounge chair.  
   
Jensen leans back and looks into the darkening summer sky. "So how're we gonna do this, business genius? I cut you a check or something?"   
   
"Actually," Jared says, and there's a note of hesitation in his voice, "that's a tricky point, with a teeny-tiny condition attached."  
   
Smirking, Jensen looks at Jared. "What, am I supposed to deny my father and refuse my name?"  
   
Jared laughs. "If it makes you feel better."  
   
"Might," Jensen answers, and Jared laughs again, a soft, warm, low belly laugh that Jensen would like to record and play over and over and over.  
   
"Want me to tell you my plan?" Jared asks, and there's a note of genuine glee in his voice that makes Jensen giddy.  
   
"Shoot, genius."   
   
*-*  
   
20 minutes later, he rephrases. "Oh my god, somebody shoot me."  
   
Jared looks up from the laptop he's dragged to the terrace. "What?" He's wearing thin-rimmed, square reading glasses that make him look even smarter than he sounds, and it's incongruously sexy, and edgy coupled with his loose t-shirt and faded jeans.  
   
"One more word about offshore accounts, and tax advantages, and cash flow, and I'm gonna throw you over the balustrade," Jensen growls, rubbing his eyes. His head hurts from trying to follow Jared through the jungle of setting up a front firm on Cayman Islands to buy Jared's shares in Padalecki Industries to hide the paper trail from Jensen's dad and make him seem like any other investor to Jared's dad.  
   
Jared raises his hands away from the keyboard in a disclaiming gesture. "Fine, I won't bore you with details, and I won't even make you read the documents you'll need to sign to make this all happen," he says, in the tone Jensen imagines Paris Hilton's tax attorney uses on her. He closes the laptop and sets it on the floor, leaning back in his lounge chair. "Just as long as you show up at the stockholder conference and vote the way I tell you to vote, everything's gonna be okay."  
   
"Thank you!" Jensen sighs in relief. "Dude, how the hell did you grow up this smart, with all the shit we did as kids? Ant eating must've been good for your brain growth or something."  
   
Jared smirks. "I always told you to eat your ants, but did you listen? No, you didn't."  
   
Jensen resists the urge to stick out his tongue at Jared, strongly convinced that it won't exactly help Jared to respect him. He gestures at the laptop. "You know what's major scary?" And major cute, but he won't say that out loud. "You actually seem to be enjoying this crap."  
    
"Why do you think I'm doing it?" Jared asks, sounding amused.  
   
Jensen smirks to himself. "Dude, once he's gotten over the fact that you're a Padalecki, my dad's gonna love you. He's gonna want to adopt you, exchange his no-good loser son for a better one."  
   
"You're not a loser." Jared's voice is soft and quiet, sleepy in the growing summer darkness, barely more than a murmur. "You're a bit of an idiot, maybe, but you're not a loser."  
   
"Thanks," Jensen says, managing a dry tone even through the weird lump in his throat.  
   
Jared doesn't answer, and Jensen's content to let a comfortable silence settle. He looks into the night sky at the few stars visible through the smog and thinks of the summer before the falling-out between their families. He remembers campfires and smores, running and playing and buzzing of mosquitoes, telling scary stories and falling asleep in sleeping bags between Jeff and Jared under the stars, exhausted and happy and whole. He'd give anything to feel like that again. He's spent his entire adult life chasing after that feeling, sex and alcohol and drugs never bring him that weightless, happy feeling that everything's all right with the world and his place in it. The only time he ever comes close to this feeling of contentment is the first time he's starting an engine he's worked on, or looking at a perfectly finished paint job.  
   
A small snoring sound disturbs the humming quiet of the city winding down from a hectic day. Jensen looks over at Jared, who's fallen asleep sprawled in his lounge chair, mouth open, bangs over his eyes and snoring softly.  
   
Jensen gets up and slowly, carefully, takes the glasses off Jared's nose, deposits them on the small table between their chairs, wondering whether Jared ever thinks of these perfect summer nights, whether he too thinks of the many ways he hasn't been truly happy since then. Somehow Jensen doubts it, and he's glad, while at the same time a part of him is nearly sick with envy. And instantly, he's ashamed of that envy, because if anybody deserves to be happy it's Jared, who's smart and funny and takes life head on with the genuine enthusiasm of somebody who enjoys a challenge.  
   
_Well,_ he thinks, Challenge number one, J: Make people believe you'd slum it with me.  
   
Jared snorts in his sleep.  
   
"Yeah," Jensen whispers. "My point exactly."  
   
*-*  
   
When Jensen wakes up next morning - make that closer to noon - he hears faint clattering and a voice coming from downstairs.  
   
He wanders downstairs clad just in boxers and finally locates the voice and the clanking sound as coming from the kitchen.  
   
"Yeah, Ackles, how many Jensens do we know, Jeff?" Jared's voice is relatively loud and clearly audible over the sounds of what Jensen can only assume is Jared cooking breakfast. He's also clearly on the phone, and Jensen can't resist, he hesitates on the stairs, listening to Jared's conversation.  
   
"Of course he's changed, dude, he was twelve."  
   
Jensen figures Jared's obviously talking to his brother. It'd be nice to see Jeff again, though Jensen figures under the circumstances it'd probably be a bit weird right now.  
   
Jared huffs a laugh into the phone. "Well, let's just say he's not twelve anymore. Also, he's a billionaire these days."   
   
Silence as Jared apparently listens to Jeff on the other line. "No. Not really. More of a Nicky than a Paris, anyway."  
   
So apparently Jensen's a Hilton sister. Albeit the less tacky one, but still. Normally, he'd laugh it off and be glad that at least he isn't Paris, but somehow, coming from Jared, the comparison isn't funny at all. _Serves me right for eavesdropping_ , he thinks, and yawns loudly, trampling down the rest of the stairs to give Jared notice that he's coming downstairs.  
   
When Jensen steps into the living room, Jared waves at him, already dressed in yesterday's clothes, seeing as he hasn’t got any fresh ones at Jensen's place and Jensen's clothes don't fit the giant dork. "Morning," Jared says with a smile, phone wedged between his head and shoulder, stirring eggs and bacon in a pan with his free hand.  
   
Jensen frowns at the pan, then goes to check out his fridge. Milk, orange juice, cheese that's not actually sentient yet, eggs. There's bread and two muffins on the counter, and coffee's ready and still warm. "Jared? Why is there food in my fridge?"  
   
Jared holds up a hand at him. "Gimme a minute," he mouths, then talks into the phone, "Ok, Jeff, catch you later. Yeah, yeah, we'll go for a beer together when you're here, and yeah, I'll bring Jensen." Jared rolls his eyes at Jensen and makes a 'yak, yak, yak' gesture with his hand.  
   
"Ok, give Linds a kiss. Bye." Jared hangs up and grins at Jensen. "Morning. I thought you'd never get up."  
   
Jensen scowls at Jared, who's so annoyingly awake that Jensen's half tempted to kick his ass if not for the fact that Jared's making breakfast. "When did you get up?" Jensen asks, pointing at his fridge. "And did you go grocery shopping?"  
   
Jared checks his watch. "I got up like three hours ago, and I got bored, so yeah, I went grocery shopping, 'cause I don't know if you noticed, but there's nothing to eat in this place." Jared gestures at the cupboards, voice hovering between incredulous and outright indignant. "All this space, and you don't even have crackers."  
   
Jensen shrugs and pours himself a cup of coffee. "I hate cooking."  
   
"There's food you don't have to cook, Jensen. Sandwiches, you don't have to cook. Cereal, pop-tarts, muffins, donuts, any of it ring a bell?" Jared asks, flipping the eggs around inside the pan.  
   
Groaning, Jensen rolls his eyes and reaches for the milk for his coffee. "Dude, would you at least give me five minutes to drink my coffee before you start bitching?"  
   
Jared laughs. "Fair enough."

Jared's blissfully quiet for the few moments it takes Jensen to fix himself a cup of coffee and take one deep, appreciative sip.

Then, "Bread. Don't have to cook bread. Fruit. Smoothies. Yoghurt," Jared ticks off items with his fingers, pausing to stir the eggs.

"I'm gonna kill you and bury your body in the cement foundation of the apartment building, and you'll never be found, ever," Jensen says darkly.

Jared just grins. "Oh, sit down, the eggs are done."  
   
"Maybe I'm only gonna maim you," Jensen amends when Jared hands him a plate of crispy bacon and sunny side up eggs.  
   
"How reassuring," Jared says and sits down next to Jensen at the breakfast counter with his own plate. 

They're quiet for a bit while they eat their eggs - which, Jensen hates to admit, are perfect.

"Gotta go over to my parents' and get some stuff, can you drive me, maybe?" Jared asks between bites of eggs and toast.

Jensen nods. "Sure. Or you could have one of my cars."

"Cars? Plural?"

Shrugging, Jensen waves his coffee cup at Jared for a refill. "I've got a few."

Jared doesn't even get up, he just stretches and reaches across the counter for the coffee pot and refills Jensen's cup. "Define 'a few'."

"Hm…” The doorbell rings. Jensen looks in the direction of the door. "What the hell?"

"One of your friends?" Jared asks, lounging at the counter, all nonchalance, but Jensen sees the tension in his shoulders.

"Nah, way too early for them," he says and goes to answer the door.

He looks through the spy hole, then braces himself with a sigh and pastes a sunny grin to his face, opening the door. "Morning, dad."

Alan clearly forces a smile. "Morning, Jensen. Can I come in? We need to talk."

 _Took you longer than I thought it would,_ Jensen thinks, gesturing for his dad to come in.

Alan steps into the apartment and Jensen follows.

"It's come to my attention..."Alan says but trails off when he reaches the living room and sees Jared sitting at the other end of the kitchen counter.

 _This is perfect,_ Jensen thinks, grinning gleefully. Jared in yesterday's t-shirt, eating breakfast at Jensen's, Jensen barely dressed, this couldn't have looked more convincing if they'd planned it.

Jared grins sheepishly, even blushing a tiny bit, the genius. "Morning, Mr. Ackles. You want some coffee?"

Alan looks at Jared with a deeply resigned expression on his face. "Good morning, Jared," he says, the sigh audible in his voice. "No coffee, thank you."

Jensen strolls over and sits down next to Jared, reaching for his plate. "We were just having breakfast, dad, can I offer you anything?"

Frowning, Alan looks at the plates. "You have actual food in your kitchen?"

Jensen shrugs and wraps an arm around Jared's waist. Jared reacts immediately and puts his arm around Jensen's shoulder.  
   
"His bad influence," Jensen says with a grin. He looks up at Jared and is only mildly surprised when Jared leans down and plants a quick kiss on Jensen's lips, just a soft, dry brush of lips. Jared smells of coffee.

"I do what I can," Jared answers, smiling at Jensen in a way that makes Jensen's insides go all warm.  
Jensen looks back at his father, who's looking at them with an indecipherable expression on his face. "I'd better go," Alan says, pointing at the door. "Jensen, why don't you come see me at the office some time."

Jensen smiles more sunnily than is entirely natural and nods. "Sure thing, dad. Give mom a kiss from me."

Alan nods absently, still looking at them with an expression in his eyes Jensen doesn't like one bit. "Bye, Jared. Give my regards to your mother."

Jared nods, smile fading from his face slowly but surely. "I will. Bye, Mr. Ackles."

Jensen watches his father as he turns to leave, heading back the same way he came in a few minutes ago. He grins at Jared, and Jared gives him a subtle thumbs up.

Out of the corner of his eye Jensen can see his father linger at the door, lurking, watching them. Without really thinking he grabs Jared's head and drags him down for a kiss, muffling Jared's murmured, "Ooff," against his lips.

He doesn't let go of Jared, but modifies his grip so that he's got his fingers buried in Jared's hair, which is soft and just long enough to serve as a really good handle. Jared's hands settle on his hips, gripping as if to steady himself against Jensen, and he's kissing Jensen back now, tilting his head down, licking softly over Jensen's lips, and okay, yeah, this is fun. Jared's a good kisser, pushy and demanding, his lips are soft, and he tastes of breakfast, coffee, and salty and good.  Jensen closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy this, the soft press of lips, Jared's hands on his hips. He nearly forgets why they're doing it; it seems perfectly reasonable to kiss Jared just for the sake of kissing him, after all.

But then Jared murmurs against his lips, "Is he still watching?"

Jensen turns his head towards the door, and at that moment the front door slams, and Jared's hands fall away from Jensen's hips.

"If you're gonna continue doing that, we need a signal, man," Jared says, smiling, touching a hand to his lips, his hair tousled, and for a moment Jensen's proud that he’d caused that.

"Yeah." Jensen nods. "You don't mind though?" he asks, and it occurs to him only now that it's something he should've asked yesterday, because Jared may or may not be straight, and Jensen never bothered finding out whether he minds a guy sticking his tongue down his throat.

Jared shrugs, and Jensen thinks he's trying for casual, but he looks a bit embarrassed. "Well, you're not exactly ugly, so kissing you isn't a hardship or anything."

Jensen grins, his ego almost purring. "Why thank you, right back at you."

Jared ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck, smiling at the floor. "Anyway. You were saying, before, about your cars?"

Jensen shrugs. "I'll show you after breakfast."

*-*

"Wow."

"I know." Jensen tries to keep the smugness out of his voice, but it's difficult considering how hard he's worked on some of them. "You should've seen her when I bought her; she was a wreck," he says, gesturing at the red '74 Camaro Jared's busy checking out. 

Jared looks up. "I’m more of an Impala type when it comes to Chevys, but this one… and you say you fixed it up yourself?"

Jensen nods and tries not to let Jared's admiring tone go to his head. "Yeah. It's kind of... you know, a hobby."

Smirking, Jared looks around, and Jensen can see his eyes linger on the '73 Triumph, the Porsche, the '61 Mercedes convertible. "Quite a hobby."

"It's not nearly as expensive as it looks. I buy 'em cheap. The garage space is expensive, though. It's kinda the reason I live in this building. My workshop is in the front." He gestures at the front of the building. They're currently in the back in Jensen's private garage space. "The entire ground floor was an auto shop in the sixties."

Jared just looks at him, shaking his head. "Every time I think I've got you figured out..."

Jensen shrugs. "What can I do, I'm an international man of mystery," he says, grinning. "Sometimes I give the cars away, too. The Triumph, for example, I'm saving it for my mom's birthday."

Jared's wandering through the cars, stopping at the Triumph, following the swirling floral paint designs on the sides of the car with his fingers. "Fitting."

"And I've got just the one for you," Jensen says, pointing behind Jared at the '69 Mustang Convertible there.

"Wow." Jared approaches the car as if it'll bite. "Seriously? You'd let me drive it?"

Jensen smiles. "Her. And sure. She's perfect for you."

Gently, gingerly, as if she'll break, Jared touches the car, runs appreciative hands over her curves, her black and red paint job. Carefully, he opens the door as Jensen watches, gets in, sits behind the wheel.

 _Almost,_ Jensen thinks. _Almost perfect._ Only almost, though. The Mustang isn't quite big enough for Jared, not quite sturdy enough, a bit too flashy. Jared needs something else, something with more power and less whim, a powerhorse of a car. _Maybe I'll find something,_ Jensen thinks.

Jared's smiling at him brightly, like a little boy at Christmas. "Thank you."

Jensen shrugs. "No biggie, really. She needs to be driven."

"Let me guess," Jared says, getting out of the car, "this one is your favorite." He points at the gleaming Camaro with the racing car design, red and white stripes. "It fits you."

"Maybe not so mysterious after all," Jensen says.

"Maybe not," Jared agrees, and Jensen doesn't know whether that's a good or a bad thing.

*-*

So Jared moves in. He doesn't bring a lot of stuff, just a bag of clothes, and a box full of papers and charts. He's entirely evasive when Jensen asks him just what exactly he told his parents, and Jensen knows not to push.

Monday Jensen gets up at ten, and Jared's long gone, a muffin's sitting on the counter with a note, _If you think your kitchen will survive, you could try microwaving it. Until tonight, honey. J._

Jensen flips off the note and eats his muffin cold.

When Jared comes home from work, Jensen’s sitting in front of the TV playing xBox, and he almost falls off the couch when Jared comes in wearing suit pants, a dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up so his muscles are showing, and a tie loosely hanging around his undone collar. He looks oddly grown up and very, very hot, not that Jensen pays that much attention.

He unloads a ton of Chinese take-out on the couch table and hands Jensen three documents and a pen. "Sign these, please," he says, sitting down, looking tired.

Jensen grabs a pen from the table and leafs to the last page of the first document, poised to sign it, but Jared snatches it away. "You gonna at least ask what the hell it is you're signing?"

Jensen looks up at that, at the tone in Jared's voice, half exasperated, half angry. "Okay," he says, "then what is it I'm signing?"

Jared hands him back the document. "It's the bill of sale for my shares of Padalecki Industries. This," he points at the second document, "is an authorization for me to withdraw five million dollars from your account in the name of your new Cayman Islands offshore corporation, and this," he points at the last one, "is the paperwork we need to establish the corporation."

Jensen leas through the document he's holding, glancing at it briefly. Legal gibberish bearing only a fleeting resemblance to the English language.  "Okay, I don't understand a word of this. So, Jared, are you gonna rob me blind?"

Jared shakes his head, apparently losing a battle against a smile. "No."

"Okay, then," Jensen says and signs all three documents in quick succession wherever Jared's already made small x-es to mark where he needs to put his name. "Now that it's done, I can kick your ass at Guitar Hero."

"Maybe in a bit," Jared says and gets up from the couch, grabbing his laptop bag. "I've got about an hour's worth of work to do."

"Weren't you just at work?" Jensen asks, grabbing a container of the Chinese takeout Jared's brought. Sweet and sour chicken. Nice.

"Yeah, but I need to finish these calculations," Jared says in an absent voice, sitting down at the big, empty dinner table Jensen never uses. Or, well, used once, but not for food. "Mind if I use the table as a desk?"

Jensen makes an inviting gesture. "Knock yourself out. Mind if I watch TV?"

Jared shakes his head, already poring over a print-out of an enormous spreadsheet. "Nah, go ahead."

Feeling slightly dismissed, Jensen turns to the TV and watches pointless football games, trying and failing not to look over at Jared every five minutes, watching him frown in concentration, fidget with a pen, or type something on the computer. Finally, after about two hours, Jared's finished, and looks up, catching Jensen just as he's watching Jared. "So, you said something about Guitar Hero and kicking my ass? Well, I'm gonna give you a chance try."

Jensen grins. "You're on."

*-*

The week goes by quietly, and they settle into a routine. It's a new experience for Jensen to actually live with somebody. He hasn't shared his home with anyone since he moved out of his parents' house four years ago, and he's not even sure he should count living with them, because they were hardly ever home, and their house is huge enough to hide several football teams. But then again, Jared's barely home as well, he goes to work every morning before Jensen gets up and comes home for dinner, then works another hour or two before joining Jensen in front of the TV to watch it or play with the Playstation.

There's plenty of evidence of him all through the apartment, though. Charts, and spreadsheets and print-outs litter the entire dinner table, there's food in the fridge, and every morning Jensen finds a note.

Wednesday Jensen goes out with the guys. Jared waves a massive spreadsheet at him when Jensen asks whether he wants to come along, so Jensen goes alone and comes home at three in the morning, loudly drunk and waking up Jared, who’s fallen asleep in front of the TV.

Thursday morning he finds a note, _Never knew you had such a nice singing voice. J._

Jensen tapes the note to the fridge and writes under it, _Fuck you. We need milk._

He spends the entire morning curing his hangover by surfing his usual mailing lists to check whether he can snatch up a new project. He doesn't find anything, so he goes down to the garage to check whether one of his babies needs maintenance.

They all run perfectly. Jensen goes up and plays with the Playstation, checking his watch every five minutes to see how long it'll take for Jared to get home.

*-*

It's Saturday, and Jensen's been watching surreptitiously while Jared's worked through about a dozen calculations with a small frown on his face.

"Dude," he says, "you work way too much. Come out with me tonight?"

Jared's looking at him over the rim of his reading glasses. "What did you have in mind?"

"It's poker night at my friend Steve's place. He told me to bring you along," Jensen says, neglecting to mention that his friends laughed for about half an hour when he told them he'd got a boyfriend. "So," he asks, trying not to sound hopeful, "wanna come?"

"Sure," Jared says, closing the laptop with a decided gesture.

*-*  
   
The evening's going well, by Jensen's account. The beer is flowing, and Jared's making a good show of couple harmony by occasionally taking Jensen's hand and leaning into him. Jensen's friends all teased Jared good-naturedly for being a 'serious working man', except Steve, who's the only one of them who actually works for a living, but they all respond to Jared's humor, and the fact that he could probably take them all on with one hand bound behind his back, except for maybe Tommy. Pizza's been delivered, and beer has been drunk in not too small amounts, when Chris ushers them all to sit down around Steve’s pride, the poker table he bought from a Dallas casino. 

"Gentlemen, and Mike," Chris intones in his most obnoxious voice, "money on the table."

They all laugh when Mike flips Chris off, but obligingly puts a stack of money on the table before him.

Jensen, Tommy and Steve all take out their respective wads of cash, but Jared leans over to Jensen. "You're playing for real money?"

Jensen nods. "Sure. What's the fun in playing just for the fun of it?"

"I thought that was self-explanatory," Jared says, frowning.

"Playing just for chips is for pussies and blue collars," Tommy says, and Jensen wants to slap him, but thankfully, Steve does it for Jensen.

"Shut up, you prick," Steve says and shrugs at Jared, who smirks back briefly.  
Jared leans closer to Jensen and whispers, voice barely audible, "I've got about 60 bucks on me. You didn't mention the cash."

"No problem," Jensen murmurs, as quietly as Jared, "I've got you covered." He surreptitiously holds out a bundle of cash for Jared. "Here."

Jared looks at the money, then at Jensen, and shrugs. "You know what, I'll make do with my 60."

He puts the three twenties on the table, and glares at each of Jensen's friends in turn, daring them to comment. He looks at Chris, who's smirking at Jared's 60 dollars. "What're you waiting for? You wanna play or you wanna talk about it?"

Chris shrugs. "Whatever you say, loverboy."

Jensen can see that Jared's smile is all edge and no humor. "Just deal, sugar."

They all laugh, and there's an almost audible snap when the tension breaks, and Jensen breathes again. Sometimes he hates his friends.

*-*

"Easiest money I ever made," Jared says, dragging Jensen into the apartment.

"'Sfantasticdude," Jensen slurs against Jared's neck. _Smells good,_ he thinks.

"Do you guys always drink this much when you play for thousands of dollars?" Jared asks, depositing Jensen on the couch.

"Thinkso...yeah." The couch under him is soft and solid, nice, really, and the cushion under his face is perfect, but makes it a bit difficult to breathe until Jared rolls him so he's lying on his back, face no longer mashed into the pillow. Better. More air. "Thanks," he slurs.

Jared snorts. "Try not to choke on your own vomit during the night?"

Jensen laughs. "'s funny, you sound like m'dad..."

Again, Jared snorts, then all is quiet, and Jensen gropes for Jared to see whether he's still there. Turns out he's sitting on the floor next to the couch, back leaning against it. "You lost about five thousand bucks tonight, you realize that, right?" Jared asks, voice quiet and concerned. "And I'm pretty sure that wasn't a cigarette you were smoking with Mike."

Jensen makes a vague sound that's supposed to convey his indifference to either point. He's not sure Jared entirely gets the message. He knows Jared's not entirely sober as well, but nowhere near as wasted as Jensen feels, which explains perfectly why Jensen lost, and Jared won at the game tonight.

"How often do you do this?" Jared asks.

Snorting, Jensen turns to his side and instantly regrets it when the room starts spinning. He resettles on his back and puts an arm over his eyes. "'bout twice a month," he murmurs.

Silence settles, thick and dark and hard to break.

"J?"

Exasperated sigh. "Yeah?"

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

Another sigh. "Bathroom, come on."

Everything goes blurry then.

*-*

When Jensen crawls out of bed around noon, he finds a note from Jared saying he's visiting his parents, and Jensen's glad, seeing as he's pretty sure he made a total idiot of himself last night.  
   
He spends the day zapping idly through the million and one cable channels and jerking off to mediocre porn, checking his phone and looking at the door every now and then, surreptitiously, not to check whether Jared's coming home or anything, but just because it's Sunday and he's bored out of his mind.  
   
Around five, Tommy and Mike come by and they play Guitar Hero until Jared comes home at seven and Jensen throws Tommy and Mike out so Jared can have some quiet for his work, though he tells Tommy and Mike in a leering voice that he's gonna get laid and pretends not to notice the dirty look Jared shoots him when Jensen pinches him in the ass in front of the two.  
   
Jared buries himself in work the rest of the night and Jensen goes to bed early, oddly dissatisfied, and wanting nothing more than to go out and get drunk or high or drive a fast car down a slippery road, anything to kill the antsy feeling under his skin.  
   
*-*  
   
The week passes much like the one before it, with the notable difference that Jared's got even more work and Jensen gets ever more antsy. He spends his days idling online, looking for a new car to snatch up cheap and rebuild, and grows ever more annoyed when he doesn't find one.  
   
Every day around six he starts compulsively checking his watch, pretending he isn't waiting for Jared to come home.  
   
Every day, Jared gets home around seven, looking tired but continuing to work for another hour at least, and Jensen watches with increasing concern how Jared's shoulders slump over the keyboard of his laptop and how his frowns grow deeper every day, and how every day it gets more difficult to coax a smile from Jared by letting him win at Mortal Combat, or letting him pick a movie, or cooling off the heat and stress of the day with a cold beer on the terrace.  
   
*-*  
   
It's Friday and Jensen's promised to pick up Jared from work to go to a party at Chris' place.  
   
Padalecki Industries occupies the top six floors in a relatively new high-rise in downtown Dallas, and even if he didn't know the company was in trouble, he could've told by the quiet, worried conversations in the elevator while they're riding up to the executive floor.  
   
It's pretty late already, and dusk is settling, but the lights are on in nearly every office of the executive floor. Buzzing of conversations, and computers, and the hum of the air conditioner make up a noise level quite different from what Jensen is used to from his father's company. The executive level at Ackles Oil consists of his father's office, Eliza's desk and a giant conference room, everybody else resides one floor below. Here, he can see and hear many people at work, people bent over spreadsheets in twos and threes, there's even a small kitchenette with the strong smell of coffee wafting from it. There's an air of community here, of people working for a common goal, and for the first time he thinks maybe he's missing out on something by not getting involved more.  
   
The door to Jared's office is ajar and his computer's running, but Jared's not there. Jensen grins, looking around the office, thinking he would probably have recognized it without the nametag, because it's Jared-brand messy, with candy wrappers, spreadsheets and printouts marked with post-its covering every surface, coffee cups holding down stacks and masses of paper. _Guy never cleans up at home either,_ Jensen thinks, smirking, oddly warmed by the thought.  
   
He follows the corridor further down and immediately recognizes Jared's voice coming from an office a few doors down from Jared's. The door's open and Jensen sees Jared and a man in his mid-forties deep in conversation, heads bowed over a spreadsheet.  
   
"It's not working, Jeff. I'm telling you, it won't work. None of the simulations I've run yield even near the results you've projected." Jared sounds frustrated, tired, like he's repeating something he's said very often already.  
   
The older man, Jeff, who Jensen now realizes must be the CFO and therefore Jared's boss, lays a hand on Jared's shoulder. "There's gotta be a mistake in the numbers somewhere. Relax, we'll find it. We'll run the simulations again on Monday and go through them step by step."  
   
"It's not the numbers," Jared murmurs, voice barely audible from the half-open door where Jensen's standing. "I think it's the margins."  
   
Jeff's still got his hand on Jared's shoulder, and something in that gesture raises Jensen's hackles, makes him think ugly, possessive, entirely inappropriate things, because Jeff's a good-looking man in a gray-haired, rough-edged way. He clears his throat and both men in the office turn to him. Jared smiles at him, relief evident in every line of his body. "Jensen, hi. I'll be right there, we need five more minutes. Jeff," he says, turning to his boss, "Jensen Ackles, Jensen, this is Jeff Morgan, our CFO."  
   
Jeff gives Jensen a tight smile and shakes his hand firmly. "Hi. Ackles? Ackles Oil?" he asks, sounding mildly surprised.  
   
Jensen nods. "Yeah. My dad's Alan Ackles."  
   
Jeff's smile fades almost instantly. "I see. Well, I'll deliver Jared to you right away; we just need to go over a few more figures."  
   
Jared points in the general direction of the kitchen. "Wanna get a cup of coffee while you wait?"  
   
"Yeah, sure," Jensen answers, getting the hint, leaving them to their work.  
   
He gets the coffee even though he doesn't actually want any, and walks back slowly towards the office door.  
   
It's obvious they didn't expect him back so soon, because the office door is ajar and he can hear muffled voices inside, raised. Arguing.  
   
"Ackles? Alan Ackles' son? Perfect timing, Jared." Jeff's voice, tight, rough. Angry.  
   
"I've known him since I was two, Jeff," Jared answers, low and annoyed.  
   
"Yeah, and you haven't seen him in thirteen years. That's a long time. People change."  
   
Pause. "What are you implying, exactly?" Jared's tone is ominous, and Jensen hears the warning clear as day.  
   
"You know exactly what I'm implying. You know we've got a leak, and I know Alan Ackles; he's capable of pretty much anything." Cool authority in Jeff's voice, not to be intimidated.  
   
There's a heavy sigh from Jared, and Jensen imagines he can see Jared's shoulders slump under the weight of his own tiredness. "Jeff, you're barking up the wrong tree. Jensen... let's just say he's the last person you need to worry about."  
   
"You sure?" Jeff's voice has lost some of its edge. He's asking his friend now, not his assistant.  
   
Another pause, and Jensen's stomach does a pretty impressive flip at the warmth in Jared's voice when he answers, "Yeah, I'm sure."  
   
For a moment, there's silence, broken by the rustling of paper. Then Jeff says, "Go home, we'll pick this up on Monday. I'm starting to dream of profit margin projections."  
   
Jared laughs, a warm sound that shivers all through Jensen. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Okay, I'm gonna go and get drunk."  
   
"Have fun," Jeff says, sounding absent as if he's already dismissed Jared.  
   
Jensen takes a few measured steps out of immediate hearing range and looks out of the window, trying for casual and failing because of the pretty impressive stupid grin on his face. Jared trusts him.  
   
"Ready to go?" Jared asks, stepping up behind him, meeting Jensen's eyes in the reflection of the window.  
   
Jensen nods. "Yeah. Absolutely."  
   
*-*  
   
It's early when they arrive, and the party's not really in full swing yet. Tommy and Mike are helping themselves at the bar, and three very pretty girls are trying to get Chris to show them his guitar collection. Steve's nowhere to be seen yet, and a few other party guests lounge around on Chris' immense leather sofa.  
   
Jensen and Jared join Mike and Tommy at the bar, an impressive construction of glass and black marble, big and flashy like everything in Chris' house, interspersed with cow-patterned rugs, and a few heirlooms from his parents' rancher and country singer dynasty.  
   
"Nice," Jared deadpans, looking around the black marble floor, the bottles of Crystal next to bottles of Budweiser.  
   
"I think the word you were going for is tacky," Mike says, grabbing a bottle of champagne and refilling his and Tommy's glasses. "Chris is the perfect blend of nouveau riche and hick. Which is funny, because his family's one of the oldest ranching dynasties in Texas, so they're definitely hick, but older money than all the rest of us."  
   
"Yeah, but Chris is the first to have made it into the city," Tommy says, a hint of mocking in his voice.  
   
Jensen shrugs and reaches for the beers, handing Jared one. Jared's hand comes to rest on the small of his back, and Jensen moves closer unconsciously without having to remind himself, drawn to the warmth of Jared's body, half sorry that Jared's changed out of his casually rumpled dress shirt with its rolled up sleeves into an Iron Maiden t-shirt that does far less for his arms and shoulders than the dress shirt.  
   
He gulps down his beer to counteract the fluttering of his stomach, then sets it back on the counter and wipes over his mouth with the back of his hand, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Jared's watching him, watching his face, his mouth. "Let's play pool," he says, dragging Jared by the arm into the 'game' room, where Chris has assembled a collection of pool tables, Arcade games and old casino tables. Another, this time wooden, bar takes up the entire back wall.  
   
Jensen goes directly for the balls and cues and hands Jared one, then starts setting up the balls for a game. "You wanna break?"  
   
Jared nods, setting down his beer on the edge of the pool table. "Okay, sure."  
   
They're alone, he notices. Tommy and Mike stayed behind at the bar. In here, the noises from the party are distant.  
   
Jared's watching him, leaning against the pool cue. "You want some shots?"  
   
Jensen shakes his head, eyes on the table. "Trying to get me drunk to win again?" Jensen asks, grinning.  
   
"I don't need to get you drunk to win, asshole," Jared answers, grinning back.  
   
"Tough words, buddy. Let's see if you got the skills to back them up," Jensen taunts.  
   
Jared flips him off and leans down to break, jeans stretching over his ass, and Jensen can't look away from the way Jared's t-shirt is riding up to reveal the dip of his spine, has to resist the urge to put his hand there and feel the warmth of Jared's skin.  
   
"Oh, crap," he murmurs under his breath.  
   
Jared looks up from where he's bent over the pool table. "What?"  
   
"Nothin'," Jensen murmurs, turning his attention to the pool table. "You gonna break or you gonna win the game by staring at me?" he asks, a little bit more sharply than entirely necessary.  
   
"Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a twist," Jared answers and bends down again to start the game.  
   
"You know what, I'm gonna go get the whisky," Jensen says. _Anything to look away from your ass._  
   
   
*-*  
   
It takes two shots and Jared's taunting grin to get his mind on the game, and but when Jensen sinks the eight ball he punches the air, entirely free of any inappropriate thoughts.  
   
It's a happy state that lasts about five minutes, because after they've finished their first game, Steve and Chris show up, and they decide to play two against two, with Jared and Jensen playing against Steve and Chris, which wouldn't be so bad if Chris didn't by some indefinable quality raise Jared's hackles and cause him to play the role of possessive boyfriend expertly, meaning he's constantly touching Jensen, constantly looming over him and in his space.  
   
Jensen takes to drinking the whisky out of the bottle, and after they've won the second game against the other two. Jensen is starting to enjoy Jared's leaning, maybe even so far as to lean back.  
   
The party's really getting started outside, if the rising noise level is anything to go by, and with a smirk at the way Jensen's leaning into and onto Jared, Chris gestures to Steve. "Wanna leave love's young dream to themselves and find some chicks so we can get laid?" he asks.  
   
Steve's all nonchalant grin. "Sure," he answers with a shrug and grabs his beer from the table. "Let's go. Have fun, girls."  
   
They leave, and Jensen leans against the table for support when Jared steps back a little. He looks at the half empty whisky bottle. "Think I've had a little more to drink than I thought," he murmurs, looking at Jared, who's looking at the door.  
   
"What?" he asks, but Jared only grins and stalks towards him, predatory, possessive, alpha male in every step, and Jensen feels heat rise all over his body.  
   
Jared crowds him against the pool table, leaning so close Jensen can feel Jared's stubble scrape against his cheek. "They're watching us," he whispers into Jensen's ear, warm breath ghosting over Jensen's skin, making him shiver and almost drowning out the meaning of the words.  
   
"Think they're suspicious?" he whispers back, lips nearly grazing Jared's neck, resisting the urge to bite.  
   
"Maybe," Jared answers, and he's so close Jensen can feel his voice rumble in his chest. "Maybe they're just waiting for the show."  
   
And he turns his head at the same time Jensen does, and then they're kissing. Jared's keeping it chaste, just lips on lips, soft, hands on Jensen's hips loosely holding on to him. But Jensen's had it with chaste, he's too drunk and too turned on to care about anything but getting Jared closer, now. He buries his hands in Jared's hair and opens his mouth, licking over Jared's lips. Jared makes a muffled sound against him and then they're really kissing, really going for it, like it's real, like it means something, and Jensen falls head-first into the sensation. Heat flares in his guts and travels out into his limbs, flashing over his entire body, and god, Jared tastes good, smells good, feels good against him. He pulls on Jared's t-shirt, getting him closer, sliding up to half sit on the pool table and dragging Jared to stand between his legs without breaking the kiss. He bites Jared's lips, and Jared makes a small sound against him, a ridiculously hot little noise Jensen wants to hear again.  
   
"They still watching?" Jared whispers, sounding slightly short of breath, against Jensen's lips.  
   
"Yeah," Jensen says without checking, and drags Jared's head back for more kissing, hot all over and wanting more. He wants Jared to crawl over him and cover him with his body, press him down into the table, touch him all over, but above all keep kissing him, deeply, and softly, and god, yes, exactly like this, wet, hot, tongue and lips, and hands cradling Jensen's head, holding him still.  
   
Jensen's hands wander down Jared's back, pull up his t-shirt and delve under it to touch, greedily, warm skin and strong muscle, down the dip of Jared's spine, the edge of his jeans...  
   
"Whoa, slow down, Casanova," Jared whispers against Jensen's lips, huffing a small laugh against Jensen's mouth, trying to draw back, but Jensen follows, tries to kiss him again. This time his mouth lands on Jared's neck, and he indulges the urge to bite while at the same time grabbing Jared's ass and tugging him closer. A small sound escapes Jared, something between a sigh and a surprised squeak, and Jensen grins, biting at Jared's neck.  
   
"Jensen..." Jared's voice sounds slightly strained, and he's squirming, and Jensen's hazy brain takes that as an encouragement to squeeze his ass tighter and nibble some more at Jared's neck, god he smells good. Almost without even being aware of it, he grinds against Jared.  
   
"Jensen, stop it." No longer strained, but forceful and cool.  
   
The tone of his voice is as effective as a bucket of water. Jensen stills immediately, lets his hands drop from Jared's ass. Jared steps back, looking rumpled and confused. "What the hell?" he asks.  
   
Jensen shrugs, feeling drunk and too horny to even look straight ahead. "Sorry. Got a bit carried away."  
   
Jared snorts. "You could say that," he murmurs, and Jensen notices the color in his cheeks and the way he's pushing the hair out of his eyes, and immediately has the urge again to pull Jared close and rub his entire body against him.  
   
He has to get away from Jared, now, before he does something he'll regret, like drop to his knees and...  
   
He hops from the table and straightens his clothes. "Come on," he says with a cheer that sounds fake even to himself, "there's a party going on out there, let's have some fun." _Or at least as much fun as one can have with a hard-on for one's fake boyfriend,_ Jensen thinks.  
   
"Go ahead," Jared says, sounding far less cheery than Jensen, and more than a little lost. "I'll be right out."  
   
Jensen nods, thanking all his lucky stars, because he doesn't go out to the party at all, he goes straight to one of the upstairs bathrooms and jerks off, biting Jared's name off his lips as he comes.  
   
_Part one of the cure successful,_ he thinks, pressing his forehead against the cool bathroom mirror. _Now part two. Alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol._  
   
*-*  
   
The rest of the night is a blur of shots and beer and more shots and smoking and drinking anything Mike hands him.  
   
A few clear memories stand out, like Chris handing him over to Jared like a ragdoll, drawl thick and blurry when he says, "Think it's time to take your boy home."  
   
Jared's hands on his back when he vomits out of the cab window, soothing and supporting.  
   
Jared all but carrying him back to the apartment, smelling of whisky and beer and smoke and still good in his own way.  
   
Darkness as Jared helps him to bed.  
   
"What am I gonna do with you?" Jared whispers, pulling off his shoes.  
   
"'Msorry," Jensen murmurs, staring at the ceiling, feeling rotten and knowing he deserves it. "Why're you so nice to me?"  
   
He can't see Jared's smile but he can hear it in his voice when Jared leans down and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "You remember Bobby Fisher?"  
   
"Fourth grade, that Bobby Fisher? Big kid, lived across the street from us?" Jensen asks, wondering whether he's drunk enough to have missed part of the conversation.  
   
Jared nods. "Yep."  
   
"So, what about Bobby?" Jensen asks when Jared doesn't say anything else, his brain too muddled to remember whether Bobby should be reason enough for gratitude sixteen years after he passed out of both their lives when his parents moved away.  
   
"You beat him up when he slashed the tires of my new bike, don't you remember?" Jared asks, and Jensen can tell he's surprised that Jensen didn't make this obvious connection.  
   
"He made you cry, he deserved to die," Jensen says, drowsy and barely conscious anymore.  
   
"Yeah," Jared says, softly, and Jensen isn't sure whether he imagines the fingers carding through his hair. "You and me and Jeff, we always looked out for each other. We still do."  
   
"You're such a sap, J," Jensen murmurs, and falls asleep with Jared's hand in his hair.  
   
   
*-*  
   
   
Jared's gone most of the next day, giving Jensen ample time to retrace last night and remember how he almost molested Jared on a pool table.  
   
When Jared gets home, he's got hangover meds and pizza, and Jensen gratefully consumes first the one, then the other, barely noticing through his hangover headache that Jared's pretty quiet.  
   
After dinner, Jared vanishes upstairs and doesn't come down again, and finally Jensen goes looking for him.  
   
He finds him on the roof terrace in the whirlpool, sunglasses on and looking like he's almost passed out, head resting against the edge of the pool, a coke by his elbow.  
   
Jensen síts down on a lounge chair near the pool, grateful for the shade of the neighboring apartment building that protects the terrace from the glare of the early evening sun.  
   
If Jared notices Jensen, he doesn't acknowledge it at all.  
   
Silence settles, the noises of the city far below nothing more than the ever-present background hum.  
   
Briefly Jensen considers getting the laptop from downstairs, but decides against it. Too much movement for a hot afternoon.  
   
"Boy, how you get any work done in the summer is a complete mystery to me," Jensen says, casually, conversationally.  
   
"Air conditioning," Jared answers around a huge yawn.  
   
Silence again, and okay, Jensen's gonna have to do better if he wants to get Jared to talk. "Jared?"  
   
"Hmm?" Not even turning his head in Jensen's direction.  
   
"About last night...."  
   
"Hmm?"  
   
"I'm sorry for the groping thing, I was way drunker than I thought I was," Jensen says, looking anywhere but at Jared, because damned if he isn't lying his ass off. He didn't grope Jared because he was drunk, he did it because he wanted to, and for one insane moment he forgot that Jared doesn't actually want him, isn't actually his boyfriend, isn't actually here for any other reason than Jensen's five million dollars worth of Padalecki Industries stock.  
   
Jared shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand at Jensen. "Forget it. No biggie."  
   
But Jensen knows it is a biggie, if only because Jared's so unusually monosyllabic. He grins. "You know what I like about the word monosyllabic? It's so very, very long."  
   
Jared doesn't look at Jensen, but the corners of his mouth give a most promising twitch. "I personally prefer 'concise'. It's a lot more... concise."  
   
Jensen laughs softly. "Yeah."  
   
Somehow, that seems to be enough, because Jared finally turns to him and looks at him over the rim of his shades. "Look, it's okay. I get it."  
   
"Get what?" Jensen asks, feeling the blush rise.  
   
"Why you act the way you do, you know, the binge drinking, the way you throw around money, everything," Jared says, gesturing about.  
   
Jensen breathes a sigh of relief, because for a moment he was afraid Jared had figured out that Jensen's on his fair way to crushing on Jared, and that it'd mean the end of their little deal. Instead, Jared's just figured out that Jensen's a loser. He snorts. "According to my dad, it's because I'm an irresponsible, no-good loser brat."  
   
"Yeah, well," Jared says, taking off his sunglasses and turning in the whirlpool so he's facing Jensen. "I don't think your dad gets you at all. As much as I hate it when people act like they've figured out other people completely, I think you act the way you do, because you're bored out of your mind."  
   
Jensen blinks. "Um..." He pauses and considers what Jared just said. "I've never looked at it that way."  
   
Jared snorts. "Well, you're home pretty much all day," he says, ticking off points on his fingers, "every time I get home you're either in front of the TV or the computer, you're antsy, you're restless, you have this 'finally somebody to talk to' look every time I get home, the exact same look my mother used to have, when my dad was away on business. You don't do chores; you don't go shopping, in short you don't do a thing all day. You're a smart, rich, young, healthy guy who, right now, is wasting his life doing pretty much nothing, and of course when you do go out, you drink yourself into a near coma every time to get rid of all that excess energy you don't apply to anything else."  
   
"Bottom line, get a job. Funny how that always seems to be the solution to every single one of life's problems, according to my dad at least," Jensen says, voice dripping with sarcasm and a hint of anger. Honestly, he expected more of Jared.  
   
"That's not what I'm saying," Jared says, raising his hands in a disclaiming gesture. "I just think you've got so much potential, so much money and smarts and opportunities, and you're obviously completely underchallenged and completely aimless."  
   
"You know, if I want lectures on how I waste my life because I refuse to work in my dad's company, I can call my parents," Jensen says, anger biting at his insides.  
   
Jared sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Look. I'm not saying go work for your dad. It's obviously not your thing. What I'm saying is, you're obviously not content with your life right now, otherwise you wouldn't act the way you do. What I'm saying, and I'm just trying to be a friend here, Jensen," Jared says, shrugging, "do something. Do anything. Find something to occupy your time that _you_ find worth doing."  
   
Jared falls silent, and Jensen appreciates the quiet. His anger is gone, but it takes time to absorb Jared's words and acknowledge that he's got a point. It's kind of a new experience for Jensen to be taken seriously enough to be offered actual, well-meaning advice instead of a lecture that doesn't seem to have anything to do with who he really is.  
   
 It takes a long time for Jensen to talk, and Jared gives him the time and the silence to resume or not resume the conversation.  
"Do what?" Jensen finally asks, because that's the pertinent point, after all. If he knew what he wanted to do, like Jared, he wouldn't be in this dilemma. The only subject in high school of any interest to him was auto shop, and college had been four years of binge drinking and perfecting his knack for fixing up vintage cars, and tons of his dad's cash wasted on a business degree Jensen didn't even pretend to finish.  
   
Jared looks at him, all serious concentration, pondering the problem. "Well, that's a question only you can answer. On the risk of sounding like a guidance counselor, ask yourself what makes you happy, what do you enjoy doing?"  
   
That one's easy. "Working on my cars."  
   
Jared smiles, then, a big, bright one. "See? Why don't you do more of that then?"  
   
"Because there's almost no room in my garage anymore," Jensen answers.  
   
"You know, you could always sell your cars once they're finished," Jared suggests, and Jensen immediately bristles.  
   
"Sell my cars, are you nuts?"  
   
"Okay, okay, don't sell them," Jared says, rolling his eyes. "Jesus. Rent a bigger garage or something, then, and let them stay there and gather dust."  
   
"Hm." There's nothing really to say to that, but Jared's given him enough to think about already. "I think I'm gonna go downstairs," Jensen says absently, grabbing his beer and getting up.  
   
"Jensen?" Jared calls him back, sounding uncertain.  
   
Jensen turns around. "Yeah?"  
   
Jared gives him a sheepish smile. "Sorry for sounding like your dad."  
   
Jensen smiles back, shrugging. "Guess we're even for last night, eh?"  
   
"I'd say we're about one ass slap away from even," Jared says, the laugh audible in his voice.  
   
Jensen waggles his ass. "Any time, man, any time."  
   
"I'll take a rain check," Jared teases, and Jensen goes downstairs, before he starts begging for rain.  
   
*-*  
   
Nothing really happens until Tuesday, when finally, like a gift from Heaven, Jensen finds the perfect car on a seller's homepage. He goes to check it out immediately, and like he surmised from the pictures, it's almost a total wreck, from barely working brakes to a paint job that's so worn that Jensen would probably need a microscope to find out what color the car used to be. He spends 20 minutes checking out everything, and when he emerges from under the car, dirty but happy, the owner accepts his first offer. The car's at his garage three hours later, and Jensen can't stop looking at her, imagining what she's gonna look like when he's finished, how perfect she will be. He makes a list of parts he needs immediately and sends off emails to his contacts, and then Jared's home with dinner, and Jensen’s never once looked at his watch.  
   
He takes his laptop upstairs after dinner, refusing to tell Jared why he's grinning so madly, and orders the parts he'll need.  
   
About an hour later, Jared knocks on his door and sticks his head into Jensen's bedroom. "Just wanted to ask, my friend Alexis has invited us to kind of a dinner party tomorrow, wanna come?"  
   
Jensen grins. "Yeah. Sure."  
   
Jared looks at him suspiciously. "Are you on drugs?"  
   
"No!" Jensen almost yells, offended.  
   
Jared looks amused. "You got a new car, didn't you?"  
   
"No." Quieter this time, looking anywhere but at Jared.  
   
"You got a new car." Statement this time, not question. "Can I see it?"  
   
Jensen shakes his head. "Not until it's finished."  
   
Jared grins. "So I take it you'll be pretty busy?"  
   
Jensen nods, unable to fight his answering grin.  
   
"Told you so," Jared says, smug, withdrawing his head just in time to evade the pillow Jensen throws at him.  
   
   
*-*  
   
Jared picks him up at seven with the Mustang, and Jensen can't help feeling smug for having hooked up Jared with such a sweet ride. She's perfect for him, at least until his _real_ car is finished.

His joy lasts until he gets into the car. When he sees the inside, he nearly chokes. "I swear to god, if you've spilled soda over the upholstery, I'm gonna kill you and feed your remains to wild coyotes," he says, clearing the candy wrappers from the passenger seat, careful not to step on empty soda cans lying on the floor of the car.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna douse her in antiseptic, before I give her back," Jared says, looking at Jensen's disgust with something like fond amusement, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes and he looks even more tired than he usually does these days.

Jared pulls out of the parking space and maneuvers them expertly through Dallas traffic, and Jensen's glad to see that even though Jared's a pig, he's at least a halfway decent driver.

They drive in silence for a few minutes, the classic rock radio station blaring AC/DC into the quiet between them.

"Something worrying you?" Jensen asks, watching Jared from the side, seeing the frown practically etched into his face.

Jared shrugs and signals, changing lanes before he answers, "Nothing more than the usual, impending bankruptcy, and nobody listening to me when I tell them their figures are wrong."

"Oh, _that_ ," Jensen says, ironically dismissive, and finally, Jared smiles.

"Yeah, exactly. I'm beginning to wonder whether there's any point working my ass off. Jeff refuses to see that his plan won't work. He's working with figures and margins we can't reach at the best of times, and even I can't take his projections seriously. This way we'll never convince anybody to vote for our business model."

"Well, you've got my vote," is all Jensen can think of to say.

Jared gives him a sidelong smile, then returns his attention to traffic. "I appreciate that, believe me."

"Don't mention it," Jensen murmurs, looking out of the passenger window to hide his smile.

*-*

Alexis' house is small and comfortable. She's a slight, pale, brown-haired pretty girl, very delicate. She hugs Jared and greets Jensen with a peck on the cheek. "Come in, come in," she says, waving them into the living room.

The other two guests are already in the living room, a blond guy named Chad and a girl named Sandy, a tiny, pixy-ish sexy brunette who hugs Jared and kisses him on the cheek, causing Jared to smile at her softly, a glow on his face Jensen almost immediately resents. Both Chad and Sandy greet Jensen nicely enough, but without half the warmth they showed Jared.

They chat about this and that, and in the course of their talk Jensen finds out that Chad and Sandy actually live with Alexis, that the three of them share the house as roommates.

"So how do you all know each other?" Jensen asks, looking around the four friends. He's already figured out that Chad's a computer game designer, Sandy's an actress and Alexis works in fashion.

The four of them exchange amused looks. "Jared, actually," Sandy says, giving Jared a warm smile. "Chad and Alexis went to high school with Jared, and I met him at Princeton. Somehow we all ended up back here, and Jared hooked me up with Chad and Alexis when I needed roommates."

Alexis smirks. "We're kind of the 'Jared's exes' club, well, Sandy and me, at least."

"Staying friends with the exes," Chad snorts, "you're a bigger man than I am, Jared."

"In every way possible, I'd imagine," Jensen deadpans, and the girls snicker as Jared blushes.

"Jensen..." he murmurs, reproachful but obviously amused.

There's a dinging sound from the oven, and Alexis rises. "Saved by the bell, gentlemen. Dinner's ready."

They all help setting the table. Jensen opens the wine while Jared and Chad get extra chairs from the living room into the kitchen-dining room.

Alexis heaps their plates with obviously home-made lasagna, there's salad, and extra cheese and red wine. The atmosphere is relaxed and light, and Jensen enjoys watching Jared's perpetual frown smooth out with laughter lines as his recently almost permanently tense shoulders relax a little.

They're all nice, and open and welcoming, but still Jensen feels a bit out of his depth. They talk about things most people would find easy to be concerned about - jobs, and rent, and worries for the future, and Jensen notices that Jared doesn't say anything about his own share of troubles, but listens and advises when the others tell about their predicaments.

About halfway through dinner, Sandy suddenly says, "Jensen, Jared, could you guys maybe give me a ride into the city later? I promised Jeri I'd meet her at the bar later."

"Sure," Jared says between bites of lasagna, reaching for his wine glass. "What happened to your car?"

Sandy makes a face. "Piece of shit gave out on me the other day."

Jared looks over at Jensen, raising an eyebrow. "Jensen knows a hell of a lot about cars. Maybe if you ask nicely, he'll take a look at it."

She turns to Jensen and gives him the puppy dog eyes. Jensen laughs, reluctantly admitting that she's cute, even though he doesn't like the way she keeps touching Jared all the time, likes it even less since he learned that she's Jared's ex. "Okay, sure, why not. What kind of car is it?"

She shrugs. "A '97 Toyota."

Jensen snorts. "Piece of crap. Throw it out and buy a real car."

There's a short silence, and Jensen realizes he's said just about the wrongest thing he could've said, because obviously, if she could afford a real car, she wouldn't be driving a beat-up old Toyota, and the way she looks at him says eloquently that she thinks he's an idiot. "I mean, sure, I'll have a look at it. Any of you got any tools I could use?" he asks, trying to play over his faux pas.

"Yeah, in the garage," Chad says, and just like that, the tension breaks, and slowly, Jared's disapproving frown melts into a 'I knew I could count on you' smile.

*-*

"Well," Jensen says as he emerges from under the hood of the car, "this is just about the ugliest car I've ever seen in my life, but on the upside, there's nothing much wrong with it. New carburetor, brakes need some work, but otherwise it's not so bad."

Sandy doesn't look relieved, though. "How much will it cost to get it repaired?" she asks, worry evident in her voice.

Jensen shrugs. "Depends on the mechanic, I guess."

Jared, hovering behind Sandy's shoulder, gives Jensen a hopeful look. Jensen looks back, less than thrilled. "It's a friggin' Toyota, J," he says, but Jared just keeps looking at him, using the expression he always used as a kid to score ice cream from their mothers.

"Okay, you know what, I'll be around tomorrow morning and tow the car to my workshop, and I'll see what I can do there, all right?" he asks, and a moment later he's got a tiny brunette hanging from his neck, enthusiastically smothering him with gratitude.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you!"

Jensen pats her on the back, but his eyes are on Jared, who's smiling at him and mouths, "Thank you," behind Sandy's back.

Sandy, enthusiastically bouncy, releases Jensen and turns to Jared to hug him, too, and Jensen thinks that if Sandy wants to make it up to him, she could start by not touching Jared again. Preferably ever.

*-*

"So you and Sandy…? What's the history there?" Jensen asks, looking up to the stars, sipping a cool beer. They've dropped her off half an hour ago and returned home for a nightcap on the terrace.

Jared shrugs. "Pretty much the usual. Business major meets drama major; sparks fly; worlds collide. She wanted the big life, you know, LA, and all that, and I pretty much knew from the start I'd be coming home to the family business. We were together for two years, but near the end of junior year we knew we wanted different things from life and called it quits. We stayed friends though, and as irony would have it, she ended up back home in Dallas anyway." There's a soft tone of regret in Jared's voice that makes Jensen sorry he asked.

"Life's funny that way sometimes," Jensen says, trying for philosophical and knowing he sounds like a second-rate talk show host. "You didn't tell them about our deal, did you?"

Jared shakes his head. "Nah. To be entirely honest, Jensen, I haven't told anybody about it, they don't even know about the whole impending bankruptcy thing."

"Hm." Jensen doesn't know what to say to that, because he gets it, gets that the Padalecki Industries crisis and his deal with Jensen are things Jared's not exactly proud of.

For a while, they both look up at the few stars visible through the thick Dallas smog.

"Wanna go play Mortal Combat?" Jared asks, finally, sounding entirely normal again.

"If you wanna get your ass kicked, sure thing, J," Jensen says, and when Jared holds up a hand to help him up from the floor where they've been lounging, he wishes, not for the first time, that there was no deal, that there was no Padalecki Industries, and that Jared was here because he wanted to be and not because Jensen gave him five million dollars.

*-*

Once the car's standing in his workshop, Jensen feels justified in his opinion. The car's without any merit whatsoever, it's ugly, and functional, and barely even that, with no grace and no redeeming features except four tires that reach the ground, and an old cassette tape radio that doesn't ruin the tapes.

"Cassette tapes, I can't believe it," he murmurs.

First things first. He calls a buddy of a friend of one of his spare part dealers to get hold of a cheap Toyota carburetor, and while he waits for the confirmation fax, he checks over everything else that needs to be done with the car, which, to his eyes, is practically everything. The tires are ancient; the paint job is ugly, and scratched, and there's a crack in one of the side view mirrors.

He takes a step back and surveys the car, and slowly, he starts to look at it not as an ugly piece of junk but as the ultimate challenge. If he can make this one look tolerably nice, he can do practically anything.

Maybe, just maybe, with a bit of TLC...

He picks up the phone and places a few orders, then he turns his back on the Toyota and goes to work on the other sleeping beauty standing in his workshop.

*-*

The next few days Jensen experiences the not entirely unpleasant sensation of being too busy to even think about being bored. He spends all day in his workshop, taking turns working on the Toyota and his special project, and enjoying both more than he thought he would.

The Toyota's new carburetor is installed, he's given her new tires, a new radio, new side view mirrors, new bumpers, the whole nine yards. He's called his friend Andre to schedule an appointment for the paint job.

His special project isn't going quite as well. He's been having problems getting all the spare parts he needs. There are about five people in the country who have the parts he wants, and even though money's not exactly a problem, he hates paying more than he absolutely has to on the principle of the thing.

Jared, he notices, watches him negotiate on the phone and listens to him rant about dealers over dinner with an air of smug amusement, but Jensen ignores him, and flips him off when Jared gapes at him the first morning Jensen gets up at the same time Jared does to pick up a part he needs.

*-*

The card comes on Wednesday. Jared gives Jensen an entirely disgusted look when Jensen shows it to him.

"Do we have to?" he asks.

Jensen nods. "Definitely. My parents would kill me if I missed it, and you've got to come, man, otherwise they'll get suspicious."

Jared looks at the gold-lettered invitation with an air of resigned martyrdom. _Mr. and Mrs. Ackles ask for the pleasure of your company at their annual evening soiree at the Ackles Mansion this Saturday..._

"Jesus, you'd think they're the Windsors," Jared murmurs, shaking his head. "Well, I'd better get my nice suit dry-cleaned then," he says, handing the invitation back to Jensen with a heavy sigh.

Jensen heaves a sigh of relief. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'd say you won't regret it, but I'm pretty sure you will. These parties always suck, but I'll try to make it up to you."

"Remind me not to get you to write slogans for our new ad campaign," Jared murmurs, voice as dry as the desert.

*-*

It's Friday, and Jensen's picking up Sandy's Toyota from the paint shop in two hours. He's just gone out to get his and Jared's suits back from the dry cleaners, and when he comes back to the apartment, Jared's already home, sitting on the couch, an arm around a clearly upset Sandy.

Both turn towards the door when Jensen comes in. "What's up?" Jensen asks by way of greeting, trying to ignore the tightening in his guts that stems directly from the way Jared's got his arm around Sandy.

"Nothing much," Sandy says, an obvious lie, because why would she be here in the middle of the afternoon if everything was fine? "Jared just provided a shoulder for me to cry on," she adds, giving Jared a warm, glowing smile, which Jared returns in kind.

Jensen feels slightly sick. "Listen, your car's finished. I'll drop it off at your place tomorrow, okay?" he asks, swallowing around the twisty rolling of his guts.

She smiles at Jensen, even though he can see it's an effort. "Thank you, Jensen, you're a darling." She turns to Jared. "Thank you, too, but I think I'll go now."

"You sure?" Jared asks in this tender, solicitous voice that makes Jensen want to hit something, preferably Jared, who obviously still cares for this girl, cares for her a lot. Why this should bother him as much as it does is something Jensen doesn't want to think about.

Sandy meanwhile nods and says something about having to go to rehearsal anyway. She gets up from the couch, and Jensen barely notices her saying goodbye to him, because Jared's hand is on her back, and he keeps it there until they reach the door, where she turns around and hugs Jared tightly, then presses a soft, gentle, tender kiss to his lips. Jensen feels somewhat like the Hulk, a ugly, green anger rising out of him seemingly from nowhere.

Jared comes back into the living room, looking pretty sober, giving Jensen a small smile. "Hey, what's up."

Jensen can't help himself; his voice comes as an angry, low his. "What. the hell. was that?"

Jared blinks, confused. "What was what?" He looks over his shoulder, bewildered.

"She kissed you." Pressed between clenched teeth, every word forced out in disgust.

"What?" Jared sounds completely bewildered. "Yeah, so what? It was just a friendly gesture, her boyfriend just dumped her."

"That's no reason for her to fling herself at you first chance she's got," Jensen says, aware that he's being entirely ridiculous, but he can't help it. She kissed Jared, and Jared let her, and something inside of Jensen just screams, _Mine, hands off, mine, mine,_ over and over again.

Jared folds his arms over his chest, and Jensen can see that he's crossing the line from confused to annoyed pretty damned fast. "Don't talk about her like that. You don't know her. She's my friend, Jensen, and she's somebody I care about a great deal."

Jensen hears the warning, hears the 'Back off' loud and clear, and yet when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is anger. "She could barely keep her hands off you. She was practically flinging herself at you, for fuck's sake!"

"Jensen, what the hell is wrong with you? In case you haven't noticed," Jared gestures at the empty apartment, "There's nobody here to appreciate the jealous boyfriend act. Also, newsflash, Jensen, I'm not actually your boyfriend, and I don't owe you a thing." 

"You owe me five million dollars!"

Silence. Jensen regrets the words pretty much the second they're out of his mouth, and he's just starting to talk again, trying to come up with an apology, but Jared holds up his hand to stop him.

"Let's make one thing completely clear here, Jensen," he says, and Jensen's never ever heard that tone from Jared before, that tight, angry, really pissed off tone. "You don't own me. You didn't buy me when you bought my share in the company. I'm not your property, and you don't have the right to go all pissy five-year old, because somebody else is playing with your new favorite toy. I don't know what exactly your problem is, but get a fucking grip. And never talk like that about one of my friends again."

With that, Jared turns and leaves, slamming the door behind him, and Jensen's left alone in his empty apartment, fighting the strong urge to bash his head against something hard and heavy.

*-*

Jensen waits up until 3 am and falls asleep on the couch, but he doesn't hear Jared come home, and when he checks in the morning, Jared's bed doesn't look slept in. He's picked up his phone about a million times, checking whether Jared's called, on the verge of calling himself and apologizing for being an idiot, but he's not sure he's got the words, and he's pretty sure Jared won't pick up anyway.

So he decides to let it rest for now and apologize later, when Jared gets home from wherever he is. He just hopes Jared didn't spend the night at Sandy's. Sick as it is, wrong as it is, the thought makes him nauseous. Over the last few weeks Jared's become such a big part of his life that it's sometimes hard to remember that none of it is actually real, and he's just so afraid that when it's all over Jared will walk out of his life again and they might not see each other for another thirteen years, and all that just makes him want to cling to Jared.

Anyway. With some effort, Jensen shakes himself out of inactivity. He has a car to deliver, after all.

*-*

When he parks the Toyota in front of Sandy's house, he's relieved not to see the Mustang anywhere around. Jared's obviously not here. Of course that doesn't mean he wasn't here at all.

He gets out of the car and walks up to the house, and before he's even rung the bell, Sandy opens the door and smiles, then her eyes grow big as she catches sight of the car. "What the..."

Jensen turns with her and watches as she walks towards the car that doesn't look much like her Toyota anymore. It was a greenish gray, but Jensen had it repainted a dark shade of purple, with chrome side view mirrors and new bumpers, he's exchanged the door handles and the tires, fixed her up with new brakes and the new carburetor.

Sandy gestures at the car. "Is that... actually my car?"

Jensen nods, grinning. "Yep."

Sandy steps closer and touches the black spiral tribal designs Andre painted on the sides of the car. She opens the door and sees the new radio, the new mahogany steering wheel, the speakers in the doors. "Oh my god..."

She turns around and runs towards him, flinging her arms around him, and okay, he has no reason in the world to like her, but her joy and her awe are pretty damned satisfying, and he hates to admit it, but taking this rust bucket and turning it into something beautiful and then returning it to somebody who appreciates it is a damned awesome feeling.

He pats her on the back gently, trying to calm her down as she practically sobs, "Thank you, thank you thank you," into his shoulder.

"It's okay, really, it was fun," he says.

Finally she calms down and draws back from him, wiping her eyes and looking admittedly pretty damned cute in her joyfully weepy state. "You have no idea what this means to me," she says quietly, seriously, looking at him with obvious gratitude.

He shrugs, embarrassed. "No biggie."

She shakes her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's a very big deal. I know you didn't do it for me, but thank you anyway."

Jensen looks at her, frowning. "What do you mean?"

Sandy smiles. "Please, I'm not blind. It's obvious that you like him."

Jensen suddenly decides to play completely and utterly stupid. "Who?"

"Jared. You can't take your eyes off him. It's okay, I get it, believe me I do," she says, rolling her eyes at his stupid act.

"Hm..." Jensen doesn't know what to say. Denying it would be a pretty big lie, but he doesn't want to tell the truth either, because she might tell Jared, and he's got the feeling Jared wouldn't appreciate this information right now.

She smiles at him again, sincere and warm, and kisses him on the cheek. "You're awesome, Jensen."

He gives her a rueful smile. "Darlin', I'm afraid you're the only one who thinks so right now."

"Wait and see," she says, "he'll get there."

 _Yeah, only not in this lifetime,_ Jensen thinks, but he doesn't say anything, just leads her to the car and shows her the new features he's installed.

*-*

When Jared still hasn't shown up at five, about an hour before they'd have to leave for his parents' party, he breaks down and calls Jared's cell.  _"Hello, I can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message, and I'll get back to you."_

 _Yeah, right_ , Jensen thinks, but when the beep comes, he talks anyway. "Um... Look, I know I've behaved like the biggest moron on the planet, and I know an apology doesn't really cut it, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry. Um, yeah, that's it. So, see you later, I hope. This is Jensen, by the way."

He hangs up. Not too bad. No begging in sight, anyway. Though he was close.

He stares at his cell for about half an hour, but Jared doesn't call back, he doesn't show up, and Jensen knows he's got to get dressed now, or he'll be late, and his mother will kill him. Of course the moment he shows up there alone, his dad will gloat and start pushing every eligible girl in the room at Jensen.

"I'm so screwed," he whispers.

*-*

The Ackles mansion is illuminated in all its marble glory when Jensen arrives, just on time. He drives around the back entrance and parks his Camaro in the garage, then makes his way slowly towards the front door, because he knows his parents would throw a fit if he made his entrance through the kitchen, he the scion of the Ackles clan, the golden boy, the supreme family fuck-up.

God he hates this. Hates the well-dressed middle-aged Dallas society, hates the Stetsons, and the expensive cars, and the glittering jewelry, and the superficial politeness, and his parents' wealth so obviously on display with the crystal statues at the entrance, and the butler checking peoples' names on the guest list, and the crystal champagne glasses served by proper waiters and waitresses dressed in black.

Normally his parents aren't exactly flashy, showy people, but once a year at their garden party, they like to remind everybody just exactly how rich they are.

Jensen approaches the front door with sweaty palms, nervous in spite of himself. This is his home, after all, but then again, he never felt at home here when he actually lived in the mansion, let alone now when he's an infrequent guest.

Nevertheless, he pastes on a smile and nods at the butler. "How're you doing, Ed."

"Very good, sir, thank you," Edward says, every inch the proper butler, but he winks at Jensen when nobody's looking, which somehow helps to cheer Jensen up a bit.

There they are, of course, near the door, greeting their guests, his mother looking lovely in a green cocktail dress, his dad in a tux, elegant and subdued, both all smiles and graciousness as they shake hands. He sees Eliza at his dad's shoulder, occasionally whispering in his ear, no doubt reminding him of his guests' names and professions and spouses' names.

He approaches the three of them with a sinking feeling. His mother gives him a glowing smile and a hug, and he hugs her back. "Hey mom," he murmurs, and she kisses him on the cheek.

"You look good, Jensen," his father says, holding out a hand, and Jensen shakes it.

"Thanks, dad, you look good too." He tries to smile but fails when his father obviously looks around.

"You didn't bring Jared?" Alan asks, and his tone is all surface politeness and underlying meaning, like he didn't expect Jensen to be able to hold on to Jared for longer than a few weeks anyway.

Jensen shrugs. "He's gonna be late." He smiles at Eliza behind his dad's shoulder. "Hi, Eliza."

Eliza gives him a smile and Alan says, “Maybe you can show Eliza around a bit later.” 

Eliza's about to answer when a voice from behind Jensen says, "And you can show me around as well."

An arm comes around Jensen's shoulder and Jensen allows himself to lean into the warm body behind him. "Hey," Jared murmurs, then reaches around Jensen to shake hands with his parents. "Mr.Ackles, Mrs. Ackles, thank you so much for the invitation.

Jensen's mother smiles at Jared, seemingly genuinely pleased to see him. "Jared, how nice to see you again. You've grown so much."

Alan takes a bit longer to recover, but he shakes Jared's hand politely enough. "Welcome, Jared. Jensen, why don't you show your friend around?"

Thus having to all intents and purposes having dismissed them, he turns to the next new arrivals.

After nodding a goodbye to Eliza, Jensen moves into the living room, Jared following closely, and Jensen's glad Jared can't see his face, because he's sure some of his conflicting emotions, relief, arousal, nerves, must show on his face.

They pass through the enormous living room, which is filled with people sipping champagne and having canapés and step outside onto the big terrace that connects the living room and dining room. Jensen goes directly to the farthest end of the terrace and puts his hands onto the stone balustrade, trying to get his breathing under control.

He can feel Jared behind him, Jared's eyes on him, the warmth of his body just outside of Jensen's personal space, hovering.

"Sorry I'm late, had to meet my dad and Jeff at the office, major crisis," Jared says, voice warm and low.

Jensen doesn't want to turn around, doesn't want to see Jared's face, doesn't want to know for sure whether Jared's just here because he's the type to not go back on his word once he's given it, or whether he's here because he's forgiven Jensen.

"I didn't think you'd come." He's surprised at how rough his voice sounds.

He hears, feels, Jared take a step closer, into his space, hears his voice coming from much closer. "I wasn't gonna let you walk into the lion's den by yourself."

Jensen bites his lips. "Thank you."

Silence falls, uncomfortable, tense, and Jensen suppresses the urge to turn around and burrow into the warmth of Jared's body, because the fact that Jared's here means nothing, he reminds himself, nothing.

"That was a hell of a thing you did for Sandy. She called me and told me you turned her rust bucket into a beautiful car and didn't charge her a cent," Jared says, and the tone of his voice is enough for Jensen to change his mind, to turn around to find himself practically nose to nose with Jared.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Jensen whispers, breathing against Jared's skin.

Jared smiles, shrugging. "Yeah, well, you were a pretty big idiot, but after talking to Sandy, I think I've figured a few things out." He leans down and whispers into Jensen's ear, hand coming to rest on Jensen's hipbone. "You were jealous."

The no is on the tip of his tongue, but Jared's cupping his chin and turning his face up so Jensen has to look at him, and the lie dies on his lips. "I'm sorry about what I said, I didn't mean..."

"I know," Jared says, "I get it, it's all right."

Jared's smile grows brighter, and he leans down, whispering practically against Jensen's lips, "They're watching us, aren't they?"

Jensen looks over his shoulder and indeed, his father and Eliza are standing by the living room patio doors, watching them while trying to look like they aren't.

"Gotta make it look real," Jared whispers, cupping the back of Jensen's head and reeling him in for a kiss.

 _Don't do this to me, please,_ Jensen thinks, but his body has no such reservations, on the contrary, he only moves closer to Jared, fists his hands in his suit jacket and pulls him closer, opening his mouth, kissing Jared back with all he's got, and Jared's responding, one hand on the small of his back, holding Jensen close possessively. Jensen's head starts spinning from the way Jared's kissing him, open-mouthed and intense, hot and wet and so fucking good, and he keeps thinking that this must be what it feels like when Jared kisses like he means it, like he wants it.

Jensen draws back, biting his kiss-wet lips and Jared growls, actually growls, pulling him behind the big potted plants that hide part of the terrace from view. "What..." Jensen says, but then Jared's on him again, pushing him against the wall, kissing him, clutching at his hips and pulling at his shirt, and Jensen buries his hands in Jared's hair, and he just goes with it, lets the heat rising through his entire body guide his lips, and tongue and teeth, nipping at Jared's lips and dragging his tongue over them to soothe, and Jared's delving into his mouth, greedily, like he's starving, like he's in the desert, and Jensen's water.

"They still watching us?" Jensen asks, breathless, between kisses.

Jared snorts a laugh against his lips. "God I hope not," he says, diving in for another kiss, and something inside of Jensen quietly explodes.

With some effort, he untangles their mouths enough to talk. "Jared, I..."

Jared draws back and looks at him, and Jensen's words get lost in the heat of Jared's eyes on him. He forgets what he wanted to say, forgets anything but the fact that he wants Jared, aches with it, from his toes to his cock to his fingertips. The way they're pressed together, Jensen knows Jared's noticed that Jensen's hard, but Jared only leans down and nips at Jensen's neck, right below his ear. "You still got a bedroom here?" he murmurs.

"You're a friggin' genius," Jensen pants, squirming in pleasure when Jared nibbles on his neck, making a small, slightly embarrassing protesting sound when Jared moves away from him.

Jared holds out his hand. "Come on."

Desire and anticipation make Jensen shiver, but he takes Jared's hand and leads the way.

*-*

They manage to avoid the party entirely by going around the house and back in through the servants' entrance, which brings them to the back stairs that lead to Jensen's bedroom, with the additional advantage of being able to stop to make out every few meters without being observed.

By the time they reach Jensen's bedroom, his clothes are in disarray and Jared's hair is a mess, but Jensen's never seen him look hotter, mussed hair, shirttails hanging out of his pants, kiss-bruised lips, heated eyes.

He presses Jared against the door as soon as it's closed behind them and delves under Jared's suit jacket. "Clothes bad," he murmurs, pushing Jared's jacket from his shoulders.

Jared's busy doing the same. "Shame, though, you look hot in a suit," Jared murmurs between short, dirty, insanely hot kisses.

"I'll wear them for you more often, but now get my fucking clothes off," Jensen says, but Jared's already working on his shirt buttons, and so Jensen goes directly for Jared's pants, opening them, delving a hand inside, and god, Jared's hard, and hot, and heavy in his hands, and the sounds he makes when Jensen's fingers close around his dick are incredibly hot.

"Jesus, Jensen," he pants against Jensen's skin, uncoordinated fingers tearing at Jensen's clothes, finally getting his shirt off and grabbing at Jensen's ass.

Jensen's fondling, stroking Jared's cock, licking his lips, hooking a leg around Jared's to pull him closer, to have a better angle, and Jared's gazing at him, kneading at his ass, murmuring, barely audible words, until Jensen leans closer to catch Jared saying, "You want me, you really want me, I thought you were just messing around, but you want me."

Jensen kisses the words from Jared's lips, eats them up greedily, soaking them up like the heat from Jared's body, the taste of him, the smell of his arousal. "Yeah, I want you," Jensen murmurs, and it's much easier to say than he thought it would be.

Jared's hands on his ass pull him closer, and Jared's grinding against him, against Jensen's erection. "Wanna fuck you," Jared whispers, voice low and raspy and growling, "wanna fuck you, Jensen, want you on your back..."

"Hell, yes," Jensen answers, dragging Jared towards his old king-size bed, until they're tumbling onto it, tangled limbs and half-on half-off items of clothing.

Jensen tangles his arm up in Jared's shirt, and they both laugh breathlessly, working together to get Jensen free, and to get their pants and underwear off, but all mirth fades when they're finally naked and Jared covers Jensen's body with his own, skin on skin, warm and hot and heavy and turning Jensen on so much he can't see straight. He nips at Jared's lips, running his hands greedily over Jared's back, his ass, well muscled and supple and delectable, grinding their erections together.

Jared's biting at his neck, his ear, hands everywhere, driving Jensen crazy. "Where..."

"Drawer, nightstand," Jensen murmurs, and then Jared's heat is gone and he hears the drawer open and close, hears the tearing of foil and the cap of a tube being opened, and then Jared's fingers are on his opening, and conscious thought goes bye-bye.

Jared's fingers ease him open slowly, expertly, constantly murmuring, "God so hot, so good, wanna fuck you so badly," and Jensen's eyes nearly roll back because hell, Jared's good, and by the time he feels the head of Jared's cock at his entrance, he's shaking with arousal. Then Jared presses inside of him, and Jensen bites his lips to keep the embarrassing noises in, to keep from begging to be thoroughly fucked.

Jared's huge, and hot and covers Jensen completely, every inch of their bodies touching, and then he's all the way inside and kissing Jensen again, hot, dirty, deep, sloppy kisses. "Move, fucking move," Jensen gasps, trying to move his hips. And Jared moves, slowly at first, fucking into Jensen with long, slow, deep thrusts, then faster, and faster, skin on skin, and breath against lips, and moans, his or Jared's, Jensen doesn't know, doesn't care, because everything feels so good, so hot, and his entire body feels as if it's electrically charged with pleasure.

He works a hand between their sweat-slick bodies and starts jerking himself off in time with Jared's thrusts, and the look in Jared's eyes is the hottest thing of all, the heated, greedy stare he gives Jensen. "Wanna see you come, wanna watch you," Jared murmurs, and that's pretty much it for Jensen, sign out here, brain exploded, because it takes about two strokes to make him come all over himself and Jared, come so hard he feels like his entire body's expanded outwards. Jared moans, and his thrusts become erratic, and it takes about two strokes more for him to come, shaking himself nearly apart inside Jensen.

He collapses on Jensen, and Jensen can't do more than hold on to him, run his hands over Jared's sweat-slick skin, and press his lips against his neck, where his hair is curling in on itself, wet with sweat.

"That was fucking hot," he whispers into Jared's skin.

"Ngh..."

"My point exactly," Jensen answers, grinning like a maniac and not caring much.

With audible effort, Jared lifts his head. "You're a moron, Jensen," he says, but he's smiling softly, warmly. He rolls off Jensen and deposits the condom in the waste paper basket next to Jensen's bed, then turns back to Jensen and rests a hand on Jensen's stomach, tracing patterns over Jensen's skin. "I didn't think you really wanted me," he says, barely audible, all mirth gone from his voice.

Jensen reaches up and pushes the hair back from Jared's forehead. "That's my line."

Jared snorts. "Please, have you looked at yourself? You're a walking advertisement for porn, Jensen. Your lips, god, and your ass..." Jared breaks off and leans down to kiss him, pulling Jensen closer, their bodies moving together. Jensen hooks a leg around Jared, and that's the end of talking for a while.

*-*

Sometime between midnight and early morning they fall asleep, exhausted, fucked out and tangled up in the sheets and each other.

Jensen wakes up alone. The sun is shining brightly, and the air outside is already hot and humid. He groans and blinks into the sunlight falling over the bed, noticing slowly but surely that Jared's not in bed with him.

He sits up and looks around, but Jared's not in the room. A clanking and rushing sound soon makes it obvious that Jared's in the bathroom, though, apparently taking a shower, and Jensen's pulse slows down somewhat.

It takes only five minutes for Jared to reappear, hair a bit damp but dressed in the slacks and dress shirt he wore last night. He gives Jensen a smile, warm and brilliant. "Morning!"

Jensen grins back, appreciating the way Jared's damp hair curls around the collar of his half-open dress shirt. "Hey, gorgeous."

Jared grins, moving closer to the bed. "Flattery will get you everywhere," he murmurs, kissing Jensen, long and slow and deep.

Hands going to the buttons of Jared's shirt, Jensen's all for Jared getting into bed again, and he tries to tug Jared down with him again, but Jared puts a hand on his chest, and god, the boy has big hands, big hands Jensen wants all over him.

"Believe me," Jared murmurs between kisses, trying to get away yet somehow not managing it, "I like the way you're thinking." He kisses Jensen, deeply, seemingly forgetting his own train of thoughts. "But I gotta go."

Jensen draws back, frowning at Jared, confused. "It's Sunday. Where you gotta go?"

Jared's face falls, his smile fades into a concerned frown. "I need to talk to my dad. We need to figure out a couple of things. Look, I'll meet you at home later, okay?"

"Fine, but I expect sexual favors," Jensen says, mock-put out.

Laughing, Jared leans in for a kiss. "Not a problem."

Jensen's pretty content watching Jared rummage around for the rest of his clothes, appreciative of the way Jared's pants stretch over his ass, luxuriating in the fact that he's now allowed to look and think about that ass.

Jared's picking his tie off the desk where it landed when Jensen flung it away yesterday, and suddenly there's this soft, fond expression on his face as he picks something up that's been lying on the desk. "You kept this?" he asks, and there's so much emotion in his voice Jensen feels butterflies in his stomach.

"Kept what?" he asks, getting up to look what Jared's found.

It's an old Polaroid showing him, Jared, Jeff and Megan all dressed like Indians, all holding plastic bags with tons of sweets, all grinning and happy.

Jensen takes it from Jared, smiling at the memory. Halloween. "Oh, yeah, I almost forgot I had this. I remember, my mom took that picture."

Jared's arms come around his waist, his chin comes to rest on Jensen's shoulder. "You were one cute kid, I give you that."

Jensen grins. "Dude, I always knew you had the total boycrush on me back then."

"Ew, gross," Jared says, disgusted. "I was ten years old, you perv."

"That..." Jensen trails off when he sees movement in the garden. The small path running under his window around the house is almost never used. "Who's that?"

Jared lets go of him and follows him to the window, where Jensen looks out at the person walking along the house in the small gravel path between the rose bushes and the back lawn. It's Jeff Morgan.

"Where's he going?" Jared asks, sounding totally confused.

Jensen sighs. "The gravel path leads to the back entrance of my dad's office. What's he want here, anyway?"

"Let's find out," Jared says, turning around. He starts to pick up Jensen's clothes from the floor and throws them at him. "Come on, get dressed. I think we're finally gonna get some answers."

*-*

Jensen's feeling of uneasiness increases with every step they take downstairs. He can't think of a single good, innocent reason for Padalecki Industries' CFO to visit his father on a Sunday morning at his home office. Not even a teeny, tiny one. Judging from the grim expression on Jared's face, neither can he.

Jensen tugs Jared along the corridor leading to his dad's office. There's nobody else in sight. Jensen guesses that his mother's still asleep and the maid's probably busy cleaning up after the party he and Jared spectacularly missed last night.

His dad's office doors are heavy mahogany, and pretty soundproof, so listening at the door doesn't yield them anything. Jared raises his hand to knock, but Jensen makes a management decision and just opens the door.

Alan Ackles is sitting behind his desk, looking at Jeff Morgan sitting in a chair in front of the desk.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing more to..." Jeff trails off and turns around when they open the door, paling considerably at the sight of Jared. "Jared..." he murmurs, "I can explain."

Jared's folding his arms over his chest, and Jensen can see he's holding on to his temper by the skin of his teeth. "You think I'm stupid, Jeff? I know exactly what this is. You've been screwing us over, feeding Mr. Ackles information about the company. All I want to know, is how long, and why?"

"You don't understand, Jared, I..."

"Please, Jeff, don't insult the boy's intelligence," Alan cuts in, cold disdain in his voice. He turns to Jared. "Jeff's been feeding me information about your company for the last year, Jared. And as to why, well, that's plain enough. Money. Lots and lots of money."

Jared's staring from Jeff to Alan and back again, shaking his head. "Because my dad refused to pay your gambling debts, right?" he asks, and to Jensen, the deep disappointment in Jared's warm voice is much worse than his dad's cool disapproval.

Jeff nods, looking down at his hands. "I'm not proud of it. But if your dad'd helped me like he should have..."

Jensen can't contain himself any longer. "Well, that's rich. You spineless scum."

"Jensen." Jared puts a hand on his shoulder, restraining him. "That's enough."

Alan smiles coldly. "Jeff trusted your father, Jared, and your dad let him down. What goes around always comes around."

Jared stares at him in disbelief, and Jensen can see a spark of comprehension. "It was you," he whispers. "It was you all along. You made sure we didn't get any new contracts, you used your influence with the banks to prevent us from getting loans, you hired the goddamned consulting firm, you bribed some of our stockholders, didn't you?"

Alan only shrugs, and Jensen has to resist the urge to punch his father in the face. "For god's sake, dad, why? Because you and Gerald Padalecki had a fight on the golf course thirteen years ago?"

"Because he deserves it, that's why," Alan answers with unexpected menace. "You have no idea what he did."

Jared huffs. "My dad never did anything to you."

"The hell he didn't," Alan says through gritted teeth, getting up from behind his desk. "He almost ruined me, and he would've succeeded if it hadn't been for the oil."

"I don't believe you," Jared says, shaking his head stubbornly, and Jensen wants to agree, but somehow his voice is gone.

Alan looks at Jared wordlessly for a long time, then sits down again, and when he finally speaks, it's without a hint of emotion in his voice. "Thirteen years ago, when Jerry and I were still with Standard Oil, we were both eager to get on, eager for promotion and success. We were young and ambitious, and we did something we shouldn't have. We engaged in some creative bookkeeping, not really fraud, not really embezzlement, but still crossing the line. We didn't do it for personal gain; we did it to make our department look better, to satisfy our ambition. Anyway, I guess it was inevitable that the whole thing blew up on us, because of course internal revision got wind of what we were doing pretty quickly and reported us to the CEO. Jerry got wind of it first, and before I knew what happened, he'd turned the whole thing against me. He went to the CEO and somehow sold him that I was the one responsible, that I'd done it without Jerry's knowledge, that he'd had nothing to do with it." His voice is low now, and angry. "I was lucky, in a way, because the company wanted to avoid any attention from the police or the IRS, so they were content with firing me, and I agreed to pay a relatively low fine. They promoted Jerry. Two months later, Jerry left the company and founded Padalecki Industries with all the help and encouragement Standard Oil could offer, whereas I was shunned by them, because they didn't trust me anymore, and if not for the oil, Ackles Oil wouldn't have survived its first year. And when I heard, about a year ago, that Padalecki Industries was in trouble, that your dad had bitten off a bit more than he could chew with one of his big corporate deals, I did everything in my power to make it worse, and when Jeff came on board, I knew I could finally ruin your dad completely."

Silence falls when Alan stops speaking, Jensen's too stunned to say another word, because his dad's story, ugly as it is, makes a whole damned lot of sense from what he remembers, and he can see in Jared's body language that he, too, can't dismiss Alan's story out of hand, even though he's still shaking his head in quiet denial.

"It's all true, Jared," Jeff says, finally, quietly. "I asked your dad, he admitted it. He said it was the biggest mistake of his life."

Jared's shoulders drop as if he's carrying the weight of the world. "And what about us? About my mom, my sister, me? What have we done to deserve this? Did you think for a second about how your actions would affect us?"

"What did my wife do, my son? Did your dad care about them when he ruined me to save himself? No, he didn't," Alan says, but there's no malice in his words, just statement of fact.

Jared shakes his head, looking defeated. Slowly, he turns around and walks out, not heeding Jensen when he calls after him. "Jared, Jared wait."

"Jensen." His father's voice, quiet, authoritative.

Jensen freezes. "What?"

"Jeffrey, would you leave me alone with my son, please?" Alan asks, and Jeff immediately gets up and leaves, shooting Alan an angry, resentful look as he goes.

Jensen's looking at the door, wishing he could just leave, go after Jared, find him, comfort him, digest the news together.

"I know what you're doing," Alan says, and there's something in his voice that makes Jensen's attention focus on his father.

"What do you mean?" he asks, even though he has a pretty good idea what his father means.

"I know about the five million dollars you used to buy Jared's share of Padalecki Industries, I know about the offshore company, I know about your plan to vote against the new business model at the stockholder conference." Alan ticks off items on his fingers with crisp, business-like neutrality that does nothing to alleviate the sudden apprehension freezing Jensen to the spot where he's standing.

"What?" Jensen asks, and his voice is no more than a pressed shadow of itself.

Alan smiles now, and there's actually something like pride in his voice when he says, "It was all very clever, Jensen, but five million dollars is a pretty big withdrawal, even for you, and I had my people investigate it. And the whole sideshow with you and Jared as a couple, impressive, really. Only I saw through your scheme in about five minutes."

Jensen swallows. "Then why did you..."

"Why didn't I stop you, why didn't I call the bank and cancel your withdrawal, why did I let you help them?" Alan asks, and Jensen can only nod. "Because, Jensen, you're now in a very good position to help me deliver the killing blow against them. You will of course vote for the new business model at the stockholder conference."

"Like hell I will," Jensen presses out, defiance in every syllable.

Alan looks up at him, clearly surprised. "Didn't you listen to me? Gerald ruined us, left us to rot, and you want to help him?"

"Screw him, and screw you too," Jensen says, "I'm doing whatever the hell I want."

Alan nods, watching Jensen, finally seeming to understand. "I get it, I do. You're doing it for Jared. I know how close you were as kids, I understand, honestly. But Jensen, Gerald almost destroyed our family. Don't you want to get back at him for that? Don't you want to help me get back at him for what he did to me?"

Jensen looks down on the floor, unwilling to look at his father. "It's been thirteen years, dad. You're ten times richer and more successful than he is, isn't that enough? Isn't it enough that you brought him to the brink of bankruptcy, do you have to make the killing blow for this to count as a victory? Let it go, dad. Just let it go and leave them alone." He looks up now, willing, for the first time in a long time, to actually ask his father for anything. "Please, dad. Let it go."

For a moment, Alan doesn't say anything, but then resolve hardens his expression, and he shakes his head. "No. I can't. I won't. He deserves it. He never got punished. He deserves to get punished. And you will help me, whether you like it or not. You're an Ackles, you will behave like an Ackles, or I swear to God, Jensen, I will cut you off without a cent."

Jensen shakes his head. "You know what's sad?" he asks. "I didn't expect you to say anything else."

Without another word, he turns around and leaves.

*-*

Jared's gone, the Mustang is gone, and Jeff Morgan is gone as well, so Jensen goes back upstairs to get the rest of his clothes. He pockets the Polaroid lying on his desk as well, and leaves without saying goodbye to his parents.

When he gets home, Jared's already there, pacing the living room, obviously on the phone. He waves at Jensen, smirking at him humorlessly, then says into the phone, "Dad, apologizing to me won't make anything better, maybe you should try apologizing to Alan Ackles."

Jensen's pretty sure he doesn't want to hear this conversation and gestures to Jared that he'll be upstairs. Jared nods, and Jensen goes upstairs, directly into his bedroom to take out the pack of cigarettes he hasn't touched in months, and lets himself out onto the terrace, where he can smoke in peace.

*-*

"When did my life turn into an episode of Dallas?" Jensen asks, flicking the ashes of his second cigarette over the balcony.

Jared's lips twitch, though he's still wearing his worried frown. "I know what you mean. I was half expecting Jeff to yell, 'Damn you, J.R.' at some point."

"Yeah, your dad and mine are pretty much J.R. and Cliff Barnes," Jensen agrees, thinking that if it all wasn't so damned serious, it'd be hilariously funny.

Silence settles, and Jensen finishes smoking, puts out the cigarette on the banister and flings the butt out over the city.

"We have to stop," Jared says, quietly, looking at his hands.

"Stop what?" Jensen asks, hoping against hope that Jared doesn't mean what Jensen thinks he means.

"The plan." Jared's still looking at his hands with unwarranted fascination. "If your dad cuts you off..." Jared shakes his head, finally looking up at Jensen. "I can't let you do it."

"It's my decision, J," Jensen says, relief and anger colliding in his voice.

Jared sighs. "I can't have that on my conscience. I'll liquidate some assets and make sure you get your five million back, so you'll be out clean."

"But the stock will be sold on the market, then, right?" Jensen asks, proud of himself that some of the things Jared explained to him didn't get lost in the muddle of his brain. "Meaning anybody, including my dad, could just buy himself a seat in the stockholder conference?"

Jared nods, reluctantly. "Yeah. But it doesn't matter, we'll deal with it."

"No." Jensen shakes his head. "No way. We've gone this far, I'm not turning back."

"No, Jensen, no," Jared says, adamant, stubborn. "I entered into this deal because I knew it wouldn't financially harm you, but I won't let you ruin yourself."

Jensen snorts, anger finally winning out over appreciation that Jared's concerned for him. "You know what, screw you. You can't make this decision for me, any more than my dad can. You think I can just stand there and watch you..." he makes a vague falling gesture, and for a moment Jared just watches him, then he's up and in Jensen's space, cupping his face, kissing him, fiercely, hungrily, and Jensen responds, kissing back just as fiercely, hands clenched in Jared's clothes.

Jared draws back, looking at him with so much emotion. "I can't..." He swallows audibly. "I can't watch you throw your life away either, Jensen."

Jensen just stares at Jared, lost in the emotions he sees in Jared's eyes, and he knows there's absolutely nothing to say to that. Jared kisses him again, softly, gently, tender, and Jensen just wants to forget this whole ugly mess and crawl back into bed with Jared, preferably never to get out again.

"Listen," Jared whispers, pulling back from Jensen. "I can't do this right now, there's... I need... I need some time to deal, okay?"

Something inside Jensen goes 'plop', like a bursting bubble. "What?"

"Just until the stockholder conference, okay? Right now we've both got so much stuff to deal with, so much crap, and complications, and business and our parents, but afterwards," Jared looks at Jensen, and the hope in his eyes would be hard to bear if it wasn't the only thing keeping Jensen going right now, "Afterwards, maybe, when all this is over, we can see...?"

Jensen swallows. "If that's what you want," he says, and his voice rough with emotion. And he gets it, he really does, because there's so much shit that's got every chance of coming between them now, and taking a step back is probably exactly the smart move now. Doesn't make him hate it any less, though.

Jared kisses him again, gentle and soft, and Jensen loves it, wants it, and hates it because he knows it means goodbye, at least for now.

"I'll get that money back to you," Jared murmurs, then he steps out of Jensen's space and is gone before Jensen can say another word.

"You do that, J," he whispers. "You do that."

*-*

It should be an insult, he thinks, that Jared and his dad both think that he's incapable of surviving without his father's money, but an hour spent on his back fixing up the brakes of his special project and the honest introspection that goes with it lets him come to the conclusion that he's given neither of them any reason to think otherwise. His dad's been watching him piss his life away for years, and Jared's been prime witness to his trying to solve an honest problem with his dad by buying himself a fake boyfriend. So yeah, no reason to take him seriously at all.

He emerges from under the car with another question on his mind, and that's whether his dad and Jared might actually be right. He's never seriously considered what he'd do if he didn't have his dad's money, how he'd live, and what he'd do, but looking around his workshop with its big shop windows out to the street, he's starting to think that maybe he'd have an idea or two.

They don't think he's capable of living without his dad's billions. Well, maybe it's time to prove to them that he can. And while he's at it, he can prove it to himself.

*-*

_Hi, this is Jensen, leave a message and I'll get back to you. Probably._

"Jensen, hi, it's Jared. Listen, your agent at the bank refuses to sell me the Padalecki stock. Call him and authorize him to sell the stock. Please. Call me back. I miss you."

*-*

_Hi, this is Jensen, leave a message and I'll get back to you. Probably._

"Jensen, this is ridiculous. Please call your bank and tell them to accept my offer. Please. Call me. It's weird not to hear your voice every day. Call me."

*-*

 

_Hi, this is Jensen, leave a message and I'll get back to you. Probably._

 

"Jensen, answer your fucking phone. I know you're pissed at me, because I'm trying to weasel you out of our deal, but please, for the love of god, call me back so I know you're not lying somewhere, choked on your own vomit, okay? Asshole." Pause. "Call me."

 

*-*

Jensen wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans for about the third time.

The evening sun is setting, making way for a summer dusk that makes the suburban neighborhood he knows so well seem just as peaceful as Jensen knows it is. He's been watching the kids playing on what used to be their front lawn, has allowed himself to remember every nook and cranny of that house, and wondered whether the tree house he, Jared, Jeff and Meg all built together is still in the Padaleckis' garden. In short, he's done everything but the thing he's actually here for, that is knock on the Padaleckis' front door.

Instead, he's leaning on the Camaro's shining hood, counting leaves on the nearby trees, lamenting the apple tree the current owners seem to have removed from what used to be the Ackles' front lawn.

Finally, he gathers up his guts and crosses the lawn towards the front door, and he swears if he took off his shoes, the soles of his feet would remember every stone, every blade of grass.

He goes up the front steps, noticing the little things that are different from his memory, a fresh coat of paint, a few repairs. He lifts his hand and rings the bell, still the same sound it used to be, and part of him expects Jared's mother to answer, smile at him and say, Jared will be out in a minute, why won't you have some sweet tea in the mean time, honey?

But it's not Jared's mom who answers, it's Jared, barefoot and wearing worn jeans and a t-shirt, his reading glasses slightly askew. He's never looked better to Jensen.

"Hi," Jensen says, trying to smile.

Jared just looks at him like he's going out of fashion, seemingly arguing with himself whether to hug or hit Jensen, but he does neither. Instead he says, "Hi yourself," in a tone Jensen can't read.

"Um... I... I just wanted to wish you luck for tomorrow. The presentation," Jensen supplies, as if Jared doesn't know that tomorrow's the stockholder conference, like he hasn't worked up to this day for months.

"Thank you," Jared answers, still so hard to read, his face half in shadow from the door.

"Also, I wanted to ask you to come by the apartment after work tomorrow, I've got something I wanna show you," Jensen adds, talking more rapidly than usual to get the words out. "Please, J, it means a lot to me."

"Okay." Jared nods, still noncommittal, still apparently not sure what to think or feel or say. "I'll come by."

"Thank you." It's all Jensen has to say, and he waits for a few moments, but Jared just stands there, watching him like he wants to soak up every molecule of Jensen through his eyes and rearrange them in a way that makes sense.

He turns to leave, but Jared's voice stops him, warm and low in the summer dusk. "Jensen?"

He half-turns to look at Jared over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Don't come to the conference tomorrow," Jared asks, quietly.

Jensen smiles in the growing darkness. "I'll see you tomorrow, J." And without another word, he turns and goes back to his car, and he can see Jared standing there, watching him drive away, until he turns a corner, thinking about the first time he drove Jared home when everything seemed different. Back then he felt depressed. Now all he feels is hope.

*-*

Jensen's nervous. And uncomfortable. And wearing the scratchiest suit in the history of men's formalwear. He hates suits on principle, but he's pretty sure he wouldn't be more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, because everything's so fucking formal here.

The conference table is made of glass, and every place on it is set with a portfolio, a pen, a glass of water and a cup and saucer waiting for coffee. There's a table covered in white cloth running along one wall, obviously it's going to be a buffet later, once the business part of the event is over. Facing the conference table is a full conference set-up with a video projector, a running laptop, water and a microphone, all ready for the presentation.

There are only six major stockholders aside from himself, one of them is Gerald Padalecki, the other ones he doesn't know. Several people are milling about, obviously Padalecki Industries employees, here to see the outcome of the vote first-hand.

He's trying to blend into the background as much as he can, because he feels about as out of place as if he were on Mars.

But his impersonation as part of the wall isn't entirely successful, because it doesn't stop Gerald Padalecki approaching him straight away.

"Jensen. It's nice to see you again," Gerald says, every inch the CEO, holding out his hand.

Jensen shakes it. "Thanks, Mr. Padalecki, you too."

Gerald looks at him gravely. "Son, I wanted to thank you what you did for us. Don't think I'm not aware of your difficult situation. Nobody will hold it against you if you abstain from casting your vote."

 _Meaning, don't risk your ass, but don't vote against us either,_ Jensen thinks.

He smiles humorlessly. "Thank you, sir, I appreciate it." If Gerald notices the hint of sarcasm, he doesn't comment, and Jensen admires the man's poker face.

Gerald claps Jensen on the shoulder. "You've been a good friend to my son. A much better friend than I've been to your father," he says, and Jensen can hear the genuine regret in his voice. "Maybe one day your father and I can sort this out without involving any of you."

Jensen smirks. "Mr. Padalecki, I think I'm speaking for a lot of people if I say, that'd be appreciated." _Maybe take it outside and go at each other for a few rounds, next time,_ Jensen adds silently.

He takes out a business card and hands it to Gerald. "Could you give this to Jared, please?" he asks. "He'll know what it's about."

Gerald takes the card and nods, a tiny hint of a smile on his face, and goes to take his place at the table. That seems to be the general signal for starting proceedings, because all the other stockholders take their seats and Jensen follows suit. When they're all seated, the portfolios are opened and studied, and Jensen pretends to do the same, even though for all he understands the documents could be in Chinese.

The lights dim and two well-dressed, middle-aged men take the 'stage', introducing themselves as Charles and Roger Miller from Miller&Miller consulting. They start their presentation of what Jensen can only assume is the business model Jared's classed as the company's certain bankruptcy, and so Jensen zones out pretty much the moment they start talking, wishing he'd brought his iPod.

They talk for twenty minutes, but it feels like days to Jensen, and he's sketched half a dozen designs for paint jobs on his profit margin projections before they’re finally, finally finished.

There's a short pause, used by a waitress to re-fill coffee cups and water glasses, for which Jensen is eternally grateful, then a hush falls over the room when Jared steps up to the front of the room. He's dressed smartly, blue pin-stripe suit, and his hair is perfect, but Jensen remembers how he looked last night, all soft around the edges, and he thinks he prefers casual Jared to slick Jared.

Still, when he starts talking, it's damn near impossible for Jensen to take his eyes off him, he watches every gesture of these huge, huge hands and every move Jared makes, soaking it all up after three weeks of not seeing him at all. He doesn't really understand what Jared's saying, but he can at least tell that Jared's presentation has all the warmth and passion of somebody who genuinely cares about the company, opposed to the cool rationale the consultants displayed.

The twenty minutes Jared takes pass way too soon for Jensen's liking. But Jared's wrapping up before Jensen's looked his fill, and Jensen's stomach starts to flutter, because he knows now it'll be time to vote.

"Thank you all for your attention," Jared says, wrapping up, and before he leaves, he gives Jensen a long, lingering look and half a smile, and Jensen smiles back, nerves settling. This isn't a difficult decision. It never was.

He turns briefly to study the crowd of Padalecki Industries employees, sees Jeff Morgan there, and knows the moment he casts his vote, the decision will be communicated to his father. Well, he couldn't care less if he tried.

Gerald Padalecki motions for quiet, and the room falls instantly into the kind of hushed silence that always means peoples' futures are at stake.

"We will now vote on the business models presented to us. I vote for the Padalecki Industries model."

Nobody's surprised.

The man sitting next to Gerald votes for the Miller&Miller model. Nobody seems surprised.

One after one they vote, and when it comes to Jensen, who's the last one to vote, the votes are tied, three to three. Without hesitation, Jensen says, "I vote for the Padalecki Industries model."

There's no cheering, no applause, only a palpable sense of breaking tension, and Gerald smiles, genuinely, for the first time today. "Gentlemen, the vote is cast, we proceed on the Padalecki Industries model. Now, if you will turn to Page 16, the next point on the meeting's agenda."

Jensen zones out pretty much immediately, his head's swimming and his stomach is doing the excited polka of an impressive adrenaline high. He can't stop smiling, and all he wants is to get out of here, get out of this suit and maybe run a marathon, or climb Everest or bungee jump off the Chrysler Building.

Forty minutes later, Gerald calls the meeting to a close, and Jensen's pretty sure he didn't hear a word Gerald or anybody else's said for the entire duration of the time. He ducks out as soon as Gerald gets up from the table; there's such a commotion of people that it's not difficult to escape without being held up, and he's anxious to get out of there as soon as possible.

He's got one other thing to do before Jared comes home.

*-*

Brakes, check. Paint job perfectly polished, check. Radio working, check.

He's bent over, head under the hood of the car, giving the engine a last once-over, when the front door bell dings to announce a visitor. He closes the hood, covers up the car and goes into the small outer room of his workshop.

Jared's looking around, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and worn sneakers and an incredulous expression on his face. "I like what you've done to the place."

Jensen grins. "Nice, isn't it?" He gestures at the freshly painted walls and the reception desk he's put up, the small desk and computer, the filing cabinet, the phone. "It's not much, but it'll do for now. I basically just had to put in what I tore out when I bought the space, it used to be an auto shop in the sixties."

"I know, you told me." Jared gestures at the door and shop window. "I like the artwork."

"I had my friend Andre do it," Jensen says, looking at the logo Andre designed for him and the 'Ackles Auto Shop' sign on the door.

"So is this," Jared gestures around, then holds up the business card with Jensen's name and logo on it, "what you wanted to show me?"

"It's a part of it," Jensen says, grinning. "I thought you might wanna see what I'm gonna do to earn a living now my dad's pretty much cut me off."

Jared looks down to the floor, obviously embarrassed. "You didn't have to..."

"Yeah, I did," Jensen cuts him off. "And I wish everybody'd stop pretending that it was a difficult decision. My dad's money versus helping you. That's pretty much the definition of a no-brainer, J."

Jared lifts his head to look at him, a soft smile on his face, and Jensen's heart skips a beat. And then they're both moving in, and Jared's grabbing him at the same time as Jensen's fisting a hand in Jared's shirt, and then they're kissing, and it's the best thing ever.

"So shouldn't you still be at work?" Jensen asks when they break apart some time later, grinning like an idiot.

Jared shrugs, hands still roaming comfortably over Jensen's ass. "I quit this afternoon. I think the oil industry isn't my scene. Too much drama."

"Smart move," Jensen murmurs, pulling Jared down for another kiss. "So, grand tour?" he asks once they come up for air again.

Jared nods, smiling at Jensen's excitement. "Sure."

Jensen takes his hand and leads him to the workshop proper. "I took out the wall that used to separate the workshop from the garage, so I'd have more space," he explains as they walk.

"Wow, you were busy," Jared says, sounding impressed. 

"You get why I wasn't in touch, right?" Jensen asks, turning around so he can see Jared's face. "I needed to do this by myself."

Jared smiles, fingers tightening around Jensen's. "I understand." He looks around. "Where are your cars?"

Jensen grins. "I sold them. Well, except the Camaro. I had to pay for the rennovation, after all."

"You sold your cars?" Jared's amusingly incredulous. "Even my... I mean, even the Mustang?"

"Ah, yeah, well, that's another thing," Jensen says. His face's starting to hurt from grinning too hard. "I've got something for you."

He all but drags Jared to one of the work stations. "I had such a hard time finding her because there’s, like, five of them left in the whole country. You should've seen her when I found her, but the second I saw her I knew she was just the car for you. Took me ages to finish her, but she's perfect now, purring like a kitten." He's aware that he's babbling, but he can't stop talking while he's busy uncovering her, and when she's finally unveiled in all of her glory, he turns to Jared. "What do you think?"

Jared's pretty much reduced to speechlessness. "Is that... is that a..."

Jensen grins. "'67 Chevy Impala, yes. The Impala’s best year by far." He touches her perfect black paint job, gazing at her proudly. "And she's all yours."

He's about to ask whether Jared likes her, but the words die in his throat when Jared stalks towards him, crowds him against the hood and kisses him, hard, hot, and dirty, and desire uncoils through Jensen's body like a released spring. 

"You like her?" he gasps the moment Jared releases his mouth and starts nibbling on his neck.

"Love her," Jared murmurs against Jensen's neck, and Jensen shivers the way Jared breathes the words against the sensitive skin of his throat.  
“She’s gonna be a bitch to maintain, though,” Jensen murmurs, tilting his head back to give Jared better access.

"What'm I gonna do to get you to keep her pretty for me?" Jared asks, biting at Jensen's neck.

"Oh," Jensen gasps, "I've got some ideas."

"Like what?" Jared asks, pushing a thigh between Jensen's legs, grabbing at his ass.

"Like..." Jensen groans when Jared's thigh presses against his half-hard cock. "Like, do my bookkeeping, and my taxes?"

Jared laughs. "What else?" he asks, biting Jensen's ear.

"Um… do that again. A lot. Also… it’d probably help to, you know, not leave me again?" Jensen asks, and he’s pretty sure he totally fails to achieve the casual tone he’s going for, emotion and lust trembling through his body and reflecting in his voice.

Jared draws back and looks at him for a long time, and then he smiles. "I think I can do that."

 

The end.


End file.
